Synchronicity
by Profe
Summary: That's how the story is told. How Eric Cartman turned his life upside down and how he took Kyle Broflovski there with him. How Stan learned to live and let go and how Ike learned to forgive and move on. It is the story of how just one action can change four different peoples' lives forever and it is the story of how those four people finally realized they were gonna be okay.
1. Operation Start

**Hello! This is my first South Park story so please be nice! I got the idea from watching St. Trinian's and The Brother's Bloom hahha. Umm, if any pairings occur, they'll be Kyman and Creek. There'll also be side Style and Stendy. **

* * *

Eric Cartman was not a coward, no matter what Kyle Broflovski used to say about him. Had he been such a coward, he surely wouldn't have become the greatest conman to ever grace the earth. Or, that was how he liked to think about it..

He had swindled thousands of people, broken into thousands more places and captured thousands more hearts before crushing those hopeful dreams they held and running off with their money. It was just the way a conman worked. A conman could never let himself care, because the moment he did, his con was already falling downhill. This fact was solely why Eric Cartman was the best. He was heartless, as his partner in crime often told him. He was a heartless bastard, but he was the best there was.

But he hadn't done anything amazing in nearly a year and he was starting to lose his edge. His partner brought up new ideas now and again, but Eric denied them. If he wasn't the supplier, he would deny it, because no idea thought up by someone else could be half as great as his.

"Eric, the police are snooping around the neighborhood."

He opened an eye to face his blonde friend, Kenny McCormick. The way he'd ended up had still surprised Eric, even though he'd been watching him grow all these years. Kenny's dark blonde hair had turned a lighter shade over the years and it fell messily around his head, different layers sticking out on weird angles when he'd never bothered to brush. His skin was a light tan and his crystal blue eyes were one of the most amazing pairs of eyes Eric had ever set sight on. They were such a beautiful blue; more blue than the Grace Bay Sea itself.

He had only laid sight on one pair of eyes that were more beautiful. A pair he'd never cared to admit, but those emerald greens were captivating in a way Eric couldn't explain. Once or twice when they were younger, he would fantasize about scooping them out of his enemy's sockets because he didn't think Jews deserved such beautiful eyes.

"Eric, are you listening to me?" Kenny crossed his arms, tapping his foot against the floor. "The police are snooping around the area. If they find you, you're toast."

"They won't find me," he replied, opening his other eye and propping himself up on his bed. He and Kenny never stayed in one place long enough to get found, but the occasional time the police were lucky enough to be snooping around the same area, the two men hightailed it to another safe area. "In any case, if they find me, they'll find you and you'll be toast too," he smirked, watching the irked expression on his friend's face.

They were staying in an old hotel on the corner of a street neither knew the name of. It didn't matter really; they would be gone soon anyway. "Pack up your things," Eric finally said, hopping up and giving his arms a good stretch. "Or, whatever you have."

Money from their last con on a pair of twins was running low and both men knew they needed to figure something out or they would have to start running credit card scams. "You should have a better idea," Kenny said once he'd packed up what little items he had into a small shoulder bag. Even though they were in the same boat, Eric still teased him about being poor every now and again. Kenny had learned to deal with it though. "Remember all those times in elementary school at South Park? You had a million and one ways to come up with your ten million. Are you telling me that now, at twenty-three, you've got nothing? Jesus, I thought you were better than that, tubby."

"I'm not fat," Eric mumbled, adding a soft, "anymore" at the end. When they'd hit high school and appearance did matter, he decided it was high time he really did grow some muscle. And he did. He'd lost his fat and gained some real muscles. Then he joined the football team. Kyle and Stan made fun of him for it, but Kenny told him he was making a good choice. This was part of the reason they were partners now. Kenny never gave up on him. Through all his experiments during junior high, high school and even part of college before he dropped out, he'd stayed by Eric's side, even when he was spending quality drug time with the talking towel that followed them around once back in South Park. Kenny was always the strangest one.

A few years back, when he was seventeen, he was arrested for having a meth lab in the basement of his home. He claimed that he didn't know anything about it, but he was ratted out by his neighbour. But that was back in South Park and God knows that when you're arrested in South Park, you get out pretty much the next day, and mostly it didn't matter what you did.

"Whatever," Kenny said, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting for his companion. Eric grabbed a few clothes and books, shoving them into his backpack. He then grabbed what little money they had left and zipped it tightly into the front pouch.

Kenny crept over to the window and peered outside. The neighborhood was less than well off. It was sketchy and dark, even though it was daytime. He could see two cop cars parked on the side of the road and a few officers chatting up passersby.

"Oh, shit, dude, it's Wendy!" Kenny spun around, jabbing his finger at the dusty window. "She's here, man; she's still trying to find you."

"That annoying little bitch," Eric hissed under his breath. "How many times is she going to come after me before she realizes she'll never find me?"

"Maybe she's getting leads from Stan. He is her boyfriend, after all."

"No, Stan may be a pussy, but he wouldn't rat me out. In fact, I doubt he even knows where we are."

"Then, what about Kyle? He can track us down with the right information, you know. He was always a whiz with computers, plus, seeing as he's a detective for the force, it's highly possible," Kenny said.

Eric really didn't want to hear that from him. The last time he'd spoken to Kyle—really spoken to him was over the phone. Kyle had tracked him down to the Hotel de Luna somewhere south, but when the police broke into the place, he and Kenny had already fled. Eric called him from a payphone a few miles away, when he knew they were safe. Kenny had gone to get a burger, so he hadn't even known of the call and Eric planned to keep it that way.

"Kahl," Eric cooed into the phone once Kyle had been put on. "You keep trying and you keep failing."

"Cartman!" he heard the man on the other end snap. "Where are you, fatso?" he sounded panicked and Eric didn't know what to make of that.

"Like I'd tell a sneaky Jew like you," he retorted. "Besides, this little game of cat and mouse is rather fun, isn't it?"

"You asshole," Kyle breathed into the phone. "I'll find you one way or another, I promise you that. There's no way you're getting out of this a free man. I'm going to take you down!"

"Sure you are, Kahl, sure you are. You just keep thinking that." And with that, he hung up the phone and sauntered off toward the burger joint Kenny was eating at.

That was the last time he'd spoken to the fiery redhead. More than once he'd considered calling him up again just to torture him, but he'd always decided against it. What would he say? He hadn't even done anything major in the past year; he didn't know why Kyle and Wendy insisted on still finding him.

He wondered what Stan was doing. Both his girlfriend and his best friend were on the force, one being the detective and the other being the head of investigation. He wondered if Stan wanted to take him and Kenny down as much as Wendy and Kyle did. It almost made him wish he'd chosen another life. Maybe if he had become the CEO of that big company like he intended to, things would have been different. Kyle would have undoubtedly admired him more and Wendy wouldn't be after his ass all the time.

But that wouldn't be fun. Eric loved the constant rush of adventure that came with being a conman. You never knew where life would take you and that was one thing he ached for this past year. He had to find something else and fast or he was sure he'd lose his mind.

"Alright, Kenny, let's go through the back window. They won't catch us back there. Then, we can take the bus."

"Kay, man, let's go then. I don't want to get caught by psycho Wendy and her chick squad. Even if they are hot, they're insane and therefore, so not worth banging."

Eric rolled his eyes. Kenny was such a pervert; not like it mattered. If his partner was boring, there would be even less fun to be had. Plus, Kenny was really useful during cons where seducing girls was a number one. He enjoyed it far more than he should have.

The two teammates left through the back window, jumping onto the stairs leading down to the alleyway. Kenny was down on the ground first, followed by Eric only shortly after. The two gave each other a momentary glance before nodding and sneaking down the dirty, garbage clad alley to the main street. Kenny peered around the corner, motioning for Eric to run ahead when he saw the coast was clear. They jogged down the sidewalk, getting the odd stare from the townsfolk but dismissing it like it was nothing.

Yet again, they were on the run and yet again, Eric was starting to think up a plan and it all started with a phone call. A phone call that would set this little game of cat and mouse back into motion and at full force.

"Yo, Kenny, bus stop up ahead," Eric motioned to the sign, dodging a group of greasy teenagers. He groaned, rolling his eyes. "This is the last time you pick the town. You poor people are all attracted to each other, I swear."

"Fuck off, Eric. I didn't see you coming up with any better options. Next time you want to pick the town, don't act like such a prissy bitch with a dick up your ass." He jogged to a stop, reaching his arms behind his head and changing the subject completely. "When do you think the bus will be here? Wendy and her gang of sexy crime fighters are only a little while away. If they look around the corner, they'll probably see us."

"Yeah, well Wendy's a whore," Eric said. "She's a useless whore. Even if she does spot us, what's she gonna do, huh? Chase us down? Yeah, right."

"I suppose," Kenny mumbled, staring down the cracked pavement. "Hey. Bus."

The bus wobbled on its wheels as it rode down the street, stopping with a squeak in front of the men. The doors opened with a sigh, letting the two jump on and grab themselves some seats. They sat together in the back; Kenny let out a sigh and peered out the window next to him. "Damn, I see Wendy," he ducked his head, pulling Eric down with him.

"What's she doing?" Eric said.

"Some guy she's talking to is pointing to the hotel we were just in," he peered out the corner of the window. "She looks pissed," he chuckled. "She's sending her sexy squad in…"

Then, the bus started driving again, leaving behind Wendy's chance of catching them yet again. "Well, what now?" Kenny looked at his fellow conman. "You still don't have a plan?"

"On the contrary," Eric said. "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"We need to make a phone call," he smirked.

"To who?"

"You know how much I hate including other people in our plans, but as far as heists go, this is going to be a big one. So, I'm not thrilled to admit it, but we might need a team."

"No way," Kenny grinned. "You're back on your toes, finally. So, what's the plan?"

"We're going to get my ten million," Eric said, "and we're going to accomplish that goal within one week because so help me, Mel Gibson, if I don't, then I have lost my touch. I may as well just get captured by Wendy and let Kyle have a good chuckle about it."

"What are you going on about, dude? You've completed thousands of things within less than a week before. This should be no problem. What exactly are you planning on doing anyway?"

"I told you. We're going on a heist to get my ten million."

"Yeah, but from _where?"_

"The old museum just outside of our hometown. The one that opened up the week we left for good."

"Shit… The things in that place are, like, priceless," Kenny said. "Why didn't you think of that sooner?"

"Because I never wanted to go back, dumbass," he paused momentarily before continuing. "South Park… I didn't want to ever have to return to it."

Kenny frowned, "Because of Kyle?"

"Not just that dirty little Jew," Eric sneered. "Everyone. They all suck."

"So, I take it this phone call isn't directed to South Park, then?" Kenny mumbled.

Eric stared out the window opposite Kenny, "Wrong again."


	2. Douchebag Mechanic

"No fucking way," Kenny whispered, barely able to suppress a laugh.

"Shut up, you poor piece of crap," Eric retorted, wiping down his clothes from the bus ride. He'd never gotten used to riding buses. Just because it was the easiest getaway, that didn't mean he liked it. He hated sitting next to the greasy poor people or the dirty Mexicans. **(A/N: I feel so bad writing his thoughts out OTL!)** In fact, if they could all just drop dead, he'd be pretty pleased.

Kenny slapped Eric's toned arms in a joking manner. "Dude, are you for real? He hates you more than you hate Kyle!"

"Would you stop saying that?" Eric hissed. The two conmen were only seconds away from the entrance to South Park, cautiously hiding behind a line of pine trees when he had told Kenny of his plan. He felt for the cell phone in his pocket and whipped it out, scrolling down his list of contacts. It was quite the impressive list; people he'd met over the years that had owed him favours, people he'd conned so he'd remember not to answer and people he'd known for the better part of his life. Most of those people were from South Park.

"Well, you gonna do it?" Kenny questioned. "Don't just stand there like a chicken shit. What's the worst that can happen, after all? He'll say "Fuck you, you stupid bastard," and then hang up."

"God damn it, Kenny, shut the hell up! I'm thinking!" he spun around, facing away from his comrade and stared down at the phone again. After only a few seconds, he pressed the _call_ button and held the phone at his ear.

"_What?"_ was the irritated answer that greeted him. Eric couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. Over the years he'd known him, Craig's nasally voice had never changed. In fact, the only thing that had changed about him were his teeth. Three years of braces later and his they were almost perfect. Of course, when they were younger, his braces were an irresistible temptation for Eric. He couldn't resist teasing him about those ugly pieces of metal. That was high school, though, and they had all moved past braces and bad teeth.

"Craig, I need your help," Eric replied, unsure if that was a good way to start the conversation. He recalled the time he'd run away from home the day his mother hired the dog whisperer to take care of him. After everyone refused to help him, he'd gone to Craig, spouting some nonsense about how he was Eric's first choice and how he knew Craig wouldn't let him down. "What an asshole," Eric said aloud when he'd remembered that Craig in fact didn't help him at all.

"_What the fuck, Cartman?"_ Craig practically yelled into the phone. _"What the hell do you want? I told you, I'm not playing your fucking games anymore."_

"I'm not playing games anymore either," Eric retorted. For once, he was telling the truth. He genuinely thought Craig would be a good choice for this mission. "Kenny and I are going on another heist."

"_Wow, amazing, and what makes you think I won't just go tell Kyle?"_ Craig said. Eric had already thought about that, though and he knew Craig would never do such a thing. He wasn't a dick. Well, he was a dick, but a different kind. Not the kind that would play tattle-tale like the dumb kindergarteners.

"I know you," Eric said, "and I know you won't tell. You're as much a criminal as I am and you haven't spoken to that rotten Jew since high school."

"_I may not, but I know people that have stayed in touch with him," _Craig said, _"and I could care less about your stupid heist. You can go rot in hell for all I care. I hope Wendy catches you. I fucking hate you."_

Eric rolled his eyes. "Look, _dick, _I'm being seriously." He paused a moment, coughing when he'd noticed his old habit pop up. "I'm being _serious,"_ he corrected himself. "Not that I wouldn't be fine with just Kenny and I, but you know Kenny. He's too scared and—ouch!" he hissed when Kenny punched him in the ribs, mumbling, _'asshole,' _under his breath.

"He's a little pussy!" Eric yelled into the phone, exacting his revenge.

Craig was silent for a moment, _"…What the hell are you even going on a heist for? Aren't you trying to stay on the lowdown? Wendy is still after you and she comes back to South Park practically every day."_

"I don't give a rat's ass about her," Eric said. "I'm going on a heist to get my ten million. I'm making this happen and I don't care of the consequences."

Craig seemed to be pondering this because he said, _"And you'll pay me if I help?"_ Craig wasn't poor. Hell, he owned South Park's auto shop and made a pretty good living for himself, but everyone knows that when ten million dollars is thrown into the mix, people get greedy.

Eric rolled his eyes again, "Yes, if you require such commodities, I will indeed _pay_ you. But don't expect much, get it?"

Craig scoffed, _"This is you we're talking about, dumbass. I'll help you on one condition."_

"What is it now?" Eric clenched his teeth. He really wanted to move on already.

"_No one I care about gets hurt this time, you fucking douchebag," _Craig snapped into the phone. _"When you hurt the people I care about, I'm out and I'll report you to Wendy so Kyle can take good care of you."_

Eric knew exactly what he was talking about. They used to go on the occasional heist every now and then when Craig needed money to pay for college. It was fine as it was until Eric made one fatal mistake: he'd thrown someone innocent into the mix. Normally he wouldn't really care about that, but this was _Tweek _and that mix alone was bad. Never mind the fact that Eric had gotten the boy _shot._

"Well maybe if you hadn't called him in the first place..." Eric trailed off, not wanting to bug the man anymore than was necessary. "Okay, fine, whatever. No one will get hurt." He'd said this, but nobody believed him. Not Craig, not Kenny, not even Craig himself, but he kept speaking despite that.

"_You better keep your promise," _Craig's voice was steady and low. It almost gave Kenny, who was trying to listen by pressing his ear toward the phone, goosebumps. _"Now, when is this going down, fatass?"_

"I'm not fat, God damn it!" he yelled. Kenny smacked a hand over his mouth, motioning for him to shut up in case Wendy was lurking around. "I'm not fat," he repeated, whacking Kenny's hand away. "We're going to recruit more people for now, mostly as distractions, but we'll be in contact."

"_That's not like you," _Craig said, stating the obvious. _"Why are you recruiting more people? You hate people. What's the deal?"_

"There is no deal," Eric narrowed his eyes. "This is the way it will be because it's the way it has to be. No questions asked. That's my only rule."

"_Whatever,"_ was Craig's last reply before he hung up.

"God damn it, Craig's such a douchebag," Eric ended the call and shoved his phone back in his pocket. "But we've got him. He's on our side."

"You may not be telling him for a reason, but I'm your partner, so you have to tell me. Why are you recruiting people?" Kenny was giving him a strange stare and it made Eric somewhat uncomfortable. "Craig was right; that's not like you."

He sighed, running a hand through his light brown hair. He'd only had a shower the night before, but he still felt like he needed one. Probably because of all the poor people he had been surrounded by lately. "Kenny, why can't you just go with the flow like you usually do? Why do you choose now of all times to ask questions?" he'd never told the man this, but part of the reason Eric let Kenny come along with him was because he didn't ask a lot of questions. _That_ and he was a good friend.

"Normally I don't ask questions because everything explains itself. When we're out conning people or stealing something, I know what to do and there are no secrets. It's when you start acting different that I start asking questions."

He had a good point there. Eric wasn't one for teammates, so why now? He stroked his chin, wondering that same thing. He wanted a team, but why? Was he lonely with just the two of them? No, that couldn't be it. Eric Cartman did not get lonely.

That was when he thought of it. "If we get more people, that's more people that Kahl has to worry about. If I can put him in a panic, then I will. If we recruit more and more people, then our dear little detective will have no clue what's going on. We can give him mixed messages by deploying people all around. Now, of course I don't like people. You know this for a fact, but I don't think you realize what joy I get from seeing that panicked, upset expression on that Jew rat's face."

Kenny raised an eyebrow, "You are one sick son of a bitch; do you know that?"

Eric smirked. Of course he knew that. That was the reason he was recruiting all these people, after all, right? "Yeah and you're a _poor_ son of a bitch; what's new?"

Kenny furrowed his brows and, shaking his head, he said, "What's next?"

"Now that we have the mechanic, we need to set our eyes elsewhere. Although Craig's gonna be pissed to hell at us, we need Tweek."

"Why do we need Tweek; didn't you say you weren't going to get anyone he cared about hurt?" If Kenny was confused before, then he was even more confused now. "What the hell does he have to offer? Not trying to be rude or anything, but seriously."

"Tweek is easily manipulated, making him a prime persona for any plan I have. We have to use him. Who cared what Craig says?" Eric answered.

"But he sucks under stress. He's anxious, forgetful and not to mention he has an extreme lack of focus. What could you need with a person like that?"

"Au contraire, my little blonde subordinate," Eric said. "Those reasons are exactly why we need someone like him. He is, to put it lightly, the perfect distraction." Now, if getting Craig was a tough deal, then getting Tweek would prove to be only a more annoying mission. Not to mention that Craig would probably nearly beat the living shit from Eric when he found out.

Kenny slapped his forehead and let out an irritated sigh. "I have no clue what's going on anymore. Just, do whatever the hell you want. I don't give a flying fuck anymore. As long as we get the money in the end, that's all that matters. You play your psycho games all you want."

"I'm not playing games, I already said that," Eric crossed his arms. He really wasn't, but if you weren't Eric Cartman, you would have no idea what was swimming in that mind of his and you would never hope to, so Kenny just sucked in his confusion and went on with it.


	3. Twitchy Distraction

Tweek was a tough one to find and it was at that point that Eric wished he had Kyle's mad computer skills aiding them along the way. There would probably be a lot of times he wished such things, but sooner or later he would dismiss it and find another way. After all, he _was _Eric Cartman.

This particular time, he'd forced a university hacker to help him by tricking the guy into thinking he'd get paid. It didn't take the kid long to find out where Tweek lived at the present moment and before he could ask about his payment, Eric and Kenny were off.

"Why didn't you just ask Craig where he lives? They keep in touch," Kenny said. "Tweek may move around a lot, but Craig would know."

"Yeah, and if we asked him, you don't think he'd find it strange? He may be an asshole, but he's not an idiot. He'd find out what we were up to," Eric replied. "In any case, we only wasted one and a half days trying to find him." He drove them into the gates of a small town. They hadn't left Colorado, which Eric was thankful for. He didn't want to go all around the US for one guy. "What's the address that computer geek gave us?"

"18 Merrow Street," Kenny read from the slip of paper in his hand. "It should just be up ahead."

"Alright, sounds good," Eric slowed the car down when they'd neared Tweek's current house. There they were: 18 Merrow Street. The house wasn't particularly large, but it was peaceful outside and there were two large trees that shaded the house from the heat of the sun. Eric parked the car on the side of the road and turned off the engine. "Man, I can't wait to see that twitchy little blonde's reaction when we ring the doorbell."

Kenny was quite disturbed at how much enjoyment Eric got out of seeing people's frightened expressions. He knew that the last thing on Tweek's mind when he opened that door would be something pleasant. He would probably be scared out of his poor little mind, trying to enter his happy place but realizing he couldn't because Eric was _right_ there. He'd try to shut the door, but Eric would push it open and corner him. It was then that he would relay the situation and Tweek would twitch and be generally jittery while he tried to listen and not think about what Eric Cartman did to him.

Yeah, Kenny would say he knew Tweek quite well.

They walked up the stairs and Kenny glanced at Eric before he knocked on the door. They heard a crash inside followed by a loud "GAH!" that obviously came from Tweek. They waited a few moments before Eric started to get pissed off smashed his fist against the door.

"Christ, calm down, Eric," Kenny said. "He'll come eventually."

"We don't have all d—" Eric began, but stopped short when the door was pulled open by a shaky, pale hand. Tweek stood before them with tired, but wide eyes. He was even paler than before, if Kenny remembered correctly and he had dark bags under his eyes from so many sleepless nights. He was wearing one of Craig's old blue sweaters; Kenny figured it was so he wouldn't have to worry about buttons. Oh, what a challenge those pesky things could be. Especially when you were shaking so furiously you couldn't even think straight. That was pretty much how Tweek lived every day. Kenny wondered how he could do it.

He let out a gasp and tried to shut the door, just as Kenny predicted and just as Kenny predicted, Eric stopped him and pushed it open. "We need to talk," he said, cornering Tweek in his bathroom. He attempted to escape, but there were no windows and Eric's buff stature was blocking the door entirely. "Listen to me for a second. I said we need to talk."

Tweek covered his ears, hoping desperately this was just another figment of his imagination. He didn't want to see Eric Cartman. After all, he'd fled South Park to get away from the guy.

"It's j-just—GAH—a figment of my imagination! Go to your happy place, Tweek!" he told himself, shaking his head back and forth.

Kenny placed a hand on his shoulder, "We're not imaginary, pal, but we're not here to hurt you. We really do have to talk to you. I promise Eric isn't going to be an ass or anything."

Tweek looked at him, shoulders shaking and heart racing. He didn't want to listen to what they had to say because honestly, he was petrified. Horrible memories from his past invaded his mind and he saw Eric standing over a body holding a smoking gun. Someone had died that night and if it hadn't been for Craig, two people would have died. Tweek was indebted to him for being his knight in shining armour (well, knight in oily coveralls.) but all he'd done was make the man worry. As soon as he could, Tweek moved out of South Park, leaving Craig a note of apology. He remembered Craig calling him on his cell phone almost directly after, yelling at him for being an idiot.

"_It wasn't your fault you got injured! You'd have to be a fucking idiot to think that! It was all Cartman's fault; that douche! Don't leave just because of that fatass!" _Craig had practically screamed into the phone, but Tweek was already riding the taxi through the South Park exit. He couldn't escape his feelings that easily, though. Craig managed to track him down, probably because everywhere Tweek went, there was chaos.

Only a day after he moved there was a knock on his door and when he'd opened it, Craig was there looking furious. "_You fucking moron! You never listen to me! What am I gonna do with you?"_ and after that, the rest was history. No matter what, Craig always called him and found time to visit him and for that, he was happy.

But Craig wasn't here now and he had no one to hide behind.

He was crouched down beside the bathtub, with hands over his head, muttering nonsense to himself and shouting the occasional _GAH!_

"This is working out pretty well, wouldn't you say?" Kenny chuckled.

"This is bullshit," Eric said. "He's nuts."

"Well, it is your fault, pretty much," Kenny went on talking as if Tweek wasn't even there. "You are the one who shot him."

Eric rolled his eyes, "He was in the way. It was Craig's fault for calling him in the first place."

"You can think that, but you were the one wielding the smoking gun. If it weren't for Craig, Tweek would be dead since you ran off to save yourself before Wendy showed up. You have to admit, that was an ass move."

Eric sighed, "Whatever. That's all over now and we're moving on. Craig forgave me, so Tweek should be able to as well."

"Craig didn't forgive you. Craig will never forgive you; you know that. The only reason he's helping you is because there is a lot of money involved in this heist. He could rake in enough dough to stop working for years and years."

"Blah, blah, all I'm hearing is boring chatter."

Kenny shook his head, mumbling something about wondering why he stayed with Eric. He turned to Tweek and waved a hand in front of his face, "Yo, Tweek, all we want to do is talk, seriously. If it makes you feel any better you can take out your cell phone and get 911 ready."

Tweek didn't stop shaking, but he pulled out his phone and held it close, "T-talk fast!"

"Okay, here's the deal," Eric began, "Kenny and I are going on a heist to get ten million dollars. We need a group of people in order to station them all around and confuse the shit out of the dirty Jew."

"K—GAH—Kyle?"

"Yes, Kyle," Eric said. "The more people involved, the more confused he'll get. We went by South Park earlier—had a blast from the past when we called Craig. It wasn't fun, but we needed him. He agreed in the end, so will you?"

Tweek looked shocked, but then again, that was his default expression most of the time. "Craig agreed to help you?" he placed a hand on his side, where the pain from the shot wound burned into his memory again. Why would Craig agree to help someone that hurt him so bad? "You're lying!" he yelled without thinking.

"I'm not lying," Eric said. "He agreed and he knows what he's getting into, so are you coming or not?"

If Craig was going, then did that mean it was safe? He didn't know the answer for sure, but what he did know was that he felt safe when he was with Craig. He didn't forgive Eric for shooting him, but he figured if the person he was closest to could move past it, then he could too. He was willing to trust his friend's judgement of the situation.

Eric didn't like the calculating look on Tweek's face. He didn't like being out of the loop or not knowing what people were thinking. It drove him crazy. "Well?" he tapped his foot against the tiles.

"Ah! I-if Craig is going, then I'll go too!"

"That's just what I wanted to hear," Eric smirked.

"You sure you're up to it?" Kenny asked. "I know you aren't forgetting the incident…"

Eric almost wanted to drive Kenny into the wall. Was he trying to change Tweek's mind? He silently cursed Kenny and his stupid poor blood.

"I haven't forgiven him…" Tweek said, looking down at his feet. "Every time I think about it… I-I think about how much it hurt, b-but—AH—you know…! I can't dwell on it forever! If I'm with Craig… he'll protect me."

Kenny smiled, "Alright, that's good enough for me." He turned to Eric, who gave him a steely glare. He just shrugged and chuckled like nothing was wrong.

"We have the mechanic and we have the distraction," Eric said. "Now we have to do something about the rat."

"What rat?" Kenny raised an eyebrow.

"You know… the one that's been telling on us."


	4. Token

Kenny propped himself up on the hotel bed and ran a hand through his damp hair. His eyes were glued to the playboy Eric had given him to occupy himself while Eric was showering. "Ooh, nice," he flipped the page and smirked at one particularly large breasted girl.

"Kenny," Eric called to him from the bathroom. "Did you call Clyde yet?"

Kenny nodded, then upon realizing Eric couldn't see him, called back. "I called him five minutes ago. He proved you right. He was telling Token about what he was doing."

Clyde Donovan was a trusty lackey of Eric's and had been since they'd started going on heists. Eric had trusted subordinates located all over the USA and even some parts of Canada and they had all stayed loyal throughout the years, but Kenny knew that was because they were scared. They were scared of their sadistic boss. See, if there was one thing Kenny McCormick knew, it was that Eric did not make it easy to leave. If someone tried, he'd have their balls in a salad maker faster than they could blink. This sole reason was why people stayed loyal.

Clyde Donovan, however, did not fall into this category. For some insane reason, he wanted to be on Eric's side and it was a thought Kenny found strange. Even if he'd found an out, he wouldn't take it. Kenny wondered if he would choose an opportunity to leave his friend if he could. Really, because they were so close, Eric probably wouldn't do anything if he tried to leave. What could he do? Kenny was his own person and Eric knew that.

"Token's been leaking information to Wendy, but Clyde says it's not because he has a grudge against you or anything."

"Then why the hell is he doing it?" Eric hissed.

"Because, he's trying to get Clyde back on a straight path. a path that doesn't lead to possibly jail time or some shit like that, you know?"

"What a little pussy."

"Clyde's still staying on your side though, he told me."

"Good."

"Eric, what are we gonna do about Token, exactly?"

"We have to take care of him by taking care of Clyde first," he said. "We need to tell him to stop speaking to Token about everything."

"But they're best friends. Do you really think it's going to be that easy?"

"It depends. If we don't run into Wendy Testacleburger anymore, we'll know he's shutting up. If we do run into her, then we'll have to take things to the next level, understand?"

Kenny sighed, "Yep."

"I have to make a phone call now, so do whatever you want. I'll be back later with some food. Just lay low for the time being," Eric grabbed his coat and pulled it over his arms.

"Who are you calling?"

"Just someone I've been itching to talk to," and with that, he opened the door and closed it behind him, leaving Kenny to his thoughts. He walked down the hallway of the hotel and toward the elevator. He pushed the button and waited impatiently for the doors to open. When he was about to check his watch, the doors opened and he quickly walked inside, not paying any attention to who was inside.

"Eric, hey," a small chuckle came from behind him. He turned to face none other than Ike Broflovski.

"Oh, Ike, man, what's up?"

"Nothing. Actually, I was visiting Filmore. His family is staying here for the weekend."

"I see," Eric said. "But you're kind of far from South Park, aren't you? Isn't your mom worried?"

"Nah, she thinks I'm staying over at a friend's for the day and Kyle's too busy with his cases. _You_ know that, though, don't you?" he smiled.

Eric couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, "Hm."

The elevator door opened and Ike gave Eric a pat on the shoulder before leaving, "See you around."

"Yeah, see you," Eric watched the teenager leave as the doors closed once more. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the ground. When the doors to the lobby finally opened, he raced outside and passed the front desk in search for a payphone. He couldn't call from his real phone in case he was being tracked.

He walked quite a while before he came across a payphone far enough from the hotel, then grabbed a napkin from his pocket and picked up the phone with it. He dialled the correct number and waited.

_"South Park Department of Investigation, how may I help you?"_

Eric rolled his eyes. Of course Wendy had to be the one to answer. He cleared his throat and disguised his voice, "May I speak to Detective Broflovski, please?"

_"...One moment."_

He relaxed, letting out a sigh.

_"Hello, Detective Broflovski speaking. How many I help you?"_ Kyle's voice sounded tired and upset; somehow, it made Eric feel strange. Why did he sound so tired; so upset?

"Kahl, you sound so tired. You finally ready to call it quits?"

"Cartman!" his previous tiredness wore off almost immediately when he heard the other male's voice. "What the hell are you doing calling me here? What are you-"

"Ssh, don't be so feisty, Kahl," he grinned. "All in due time. I just thought you might want to know that I haven't given up yet. I'll give you a heads up, though. I'm going after my ten million this time and this time, I'm going to get it."

Kyle let out an exasperated noise. He seemed speechless, just how Eric liked him. After a short silence, he spoke up again, "I'm going to catch you."

"You're a broken record, babe," Eric said. "You always say you will, but you never do. If you're going to catch me, then c_atch me_. Prove that you're not just a pathetic Jew Rat and actually find me."

Kyle gritted his teeth, "Fuck you, you fat piece of shit."

"I'm not fat, god damn it!" Eric coughed, regaining his composure.

Eric could hear Kyle working with the computer on the other end and decided he'd best hang up. "Well, I'll talk to you later. Give the force my regards," he chuckled, hanging up the phone before Kyle could reply. He loved their little exchanges.

"Ah," he strode down the sidewalk and took a deep breath. So far, this operation was running just how he wanted it to.


	5. Kyle's Exhaustion

Kyle Broflovski was tired. He had dark bags under his eyes, his skin was far more pale than usual and his fingers ached from all that computer work. He was so desperate to end this game that he could barely think straight.

"Kyle, man, you look horrible."

He jerked his head to the side to glare at the source of noise, but couldn't muster up enough strength. instead, he just sighed, "What do you want, Token?"

"Nothing. I was just visiting Wendy," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You sure seem to visit her a lot," Kyle said. He didn't peg Wendy the kind to cheat, but since his best friend was dating her, he had to keep an eye out for these things. "Exactly what do you two talk about?"

Token narrowed his eyes. He seemed to pick up what Kyle was hinting at. "Just business. I was only telling her that I haven't heard from Clyde for a while. I think Cartman finally realized it was me."

Kyle let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't getting anywhere. "Well, last time I tried to track his calls he hung up before I could make any progress."

"He's still calling you?"

"Every chance he gets," he stood up and walked over to the coffee maker.

Token noticed all the empty cups in his garbage and piped up, "Dude, you're starting to resemble Tweek."

"I can't help it. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in ages," he rubbed his head.

"Well, hang in there." Token gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the area.

Kyle could hear the rest of his coworkers typing up reports, chatting, laughing and he cursed how easy they had it. Those people that weren't assigned to the Cartman Case had it so easy and he envied them. He envied them, but he wouldn't have it any other way. After all, this was between him and Cartman. No one else had to interfere.

Once he had his coffee, he retreated to his desk and sat down, leafing through the files Wendy had given him earlier that week. He looked through them again and again until he'd practically memorized every word, but nothing helped. Alleged sightings of a man that fit Cartman's description didn't help at all. There were plenty of people who fit the same description. So, why couldn't he find the man?

"Detective Broflovski, you have a visitor!"

He turned away from the files, "Who is it?"

"Stanley Marsh."

"Oh," Kyle stood up and walked over. "Hey, Stan."

"Hey," he grinned. "I brought lunch. You good for a break?"

Kyle checked his watch and nodded, "Yeah, sure. What did you bring?"

"Good old fashioned KFC."

"Haa... What happened to your meat protests?"

"Fuck that, man. I had a craving for some chicken."

"I had a feeling it wasn't going to last long," Kyle chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever," Stan said. "Let's go."

The two friends left the noise of the offices and headed downstairs to the lounge area, where most of the detectives spent their breaks. They sat down across each other and Stan handed Kyle a paper plate and some utensils. "Damn, I can't wait for the day I can sit at my own apartment and eat a homemade meal."

Stan laughed, "Why don't you find yourself a girlfriend? When Wendy cooks for me, I get pretty psyched, so if you had a girlfriend, you could look forward to her home cooked meals."

"Well that's..." Kyle trailed off. He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. His job didn't exactly make it easy to meet someone.

"Plus, living alone in an apartment can't be easy, right? Don't you get lonely?" Stan asked.

Kyle was beginning to realize how unfulfilling his life really was. He worked every day for nearly twenty four hours with minimal breaks, had no girlfriend, lived alone in a neglected apartment and barely saw his family. All for what? Trying to find some fatass that nobody had seen in years?

"Hey, you okay?" Stan noticed the dejected look on his friend's face and suddenly became concerned.

"Yeah," he sighed. "This whole Cartman thing is just wearing me out. Wendy is going crazy trying to pick up every little detail and Bebe and Annie aren't any help either. They're more like her cheerleaders than her coworkers. Token's just lost contact with Clyde because Cartman clearly caught on and that fatass is still calling me just so he can egg me on!" He clenched his fists, "I'm so sick of it."

"Sorry, I didn't know it was so rough..."

"No, it's just... I dunno, man, sometimes I feel like I'm never going to find him. He called me not long ago telling me that he was going after his ten million. I don't know where he's going to hit, so I can't set up any guards either."

"Seriously? He's finally going to start again..."

"Yeah, and we have zero leads. The last place we know he was at was a place Wendy scoured with her team. They'd left by the time she located their hotel room, though."

"That's why she was so pissed that day..."

"I don't know what to do, Stan."

Stan smiled, "Kyle, calm down. I think I might be able to help."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, "How?"

"Have you forgotten? That person should have a lead."


	6. Planning the Heist

"Butters, you piece of crap, why don't you go over there and help Clyde!" Eric snapped, referring to the fact that Butters Stotch was doing nothing but messing up. He had tried countless times to help out with the planning, but everything he suggested, Eric rejected. Kenny rolled his eyes, wondering how Butters could handle being insulted so much.

"Y-yes, Eric," he mumbled and retreated to where Clyde was loading a few guns. Kenny wasn't sure it was such a good idea to put him over there, but he only shrugged it off.

"Eric, why'd you assemble us all like this? I know you have your secret reasons for pretty much everything we've done so far, but at least tell us why everyone is here." Kenny glanced around the room. Sitting across each other were Clyde and Butters, working on loading all the guns, over in the corner were Tweek and Craig, who was still angry upon finding out Eric had recruited the jittery blonde. Kenny chuckled softly, remembering the explosion of rage.

Sitting on the hotel bed were Kevin and Red, who were adding final touches on the museum blueprints. The team of two had been at the museum outside South Park the entire week, making sure every detail was correct down to where everything was placed.

Red had put indicators where there were security cameras, invisible lasers and alarms throughout the building. When Kevin asked her how she found out, she only smirked and said, "I am a woman, after all." Kevin took that as more of a, "I used my powers of seduction, after all."

"Yo, Cartman, the blueprints are done. Everything is here, so you can use it to navigate. Make sure you pay attention to the alarms, lasers and security cameras, though. Their security room is chock full of different camera screens, but the advantage is that there's only one guy in there to man them all. As long as you're careful, you'll be fine."

"Sounds good, Red. I assume you know the man in the security room will be your job."

"As expected," she flipped her hair back.

"Okay," he turned his attention to Kenny. "I'm going to tell you all the plan now and that is why you're here. I'm assigning jobs."

"Damn, it's about time," Kenny rested his arms behind his head. Everyone else quietly turned to listen to their boss, aside Craig, who only muttered a few curse words and crossed his hands. Clearly, he was still angry.

"As you all know," he began, "I've been trying to get my hands on ten million dollars for quite some time now. Just recently, an opportunity has shown itself. I'm talking about the museum just outside of South Park. Red and Kevin have been there all week, drawing up an accurate map so we can navigate without worries. Now, as far as jobs go, I've got a list and I expect you all to do as I say or there _will_ be consequences." There was a momentary pause as he looked each one of his companions in the eye. "Red, your duty is the guard in the security room. I don't care how you do it, just make sure he won't be looking at his camera screens at all."

"Roger," she said.

"Kevin," Eric turned to the quietest among them. "Your duty is to make sure none of the alarms go off. Disarm them all. Once again, I don't care how you do it, just don't be loud or cause attention to yourself."

"I got it."

"Clyde and Craig, I need you two to take care of the guards patrolling the floors. Since it is still considered a South Park museum, there aren't tons of them, but be wary."

"Sure thing, Cartman."

"Whatever."

"Butters, you're in charge of the laser. Don't fuck this up, understand?" he growled.

"Y-yes, sir!"

"Tweek, you'll be the distraction... or, lookout, I'll put it. While Kenny and I are stealing the items, you keep watch and if anyone comes that isn't part of our team, catch their attention. Use the codeword we used when we snuck into the hospital back in grade four. Remember it?"

"Uh...ngh... H-Hammertime?"

"Exactly. Whatever you do, don't let them see us."

"I have a problem with this," Craig narrowed his eyes.

Eric sighed and crossed his arms, "What?"

"The guards are dumbasses with guns. They might shoot all of us and then what?"

"They're not just gonna shoot us."

"This is South Park you're talking about," Kenny interjected. "It's a high possibility."

"I told you I won't let your _precious boyfriend_ get hurt, Craig," Eric hissed. "What else do you want from me, huh?"

"Excuse me for not trusting you, fatass. You already broke your promise before."

"C-Craig, I... ngh... appreciate your worry, but I'll be okay, don't worry!" the blonde said as he grabbed at the front of his shirt. "Last time I was just s-stupid."

Craig sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Alright, fine. If you're sure. Just be careful."

Tweek nodded.

Eric uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips, "Well, good. Everyone knows there job now, am I right?" He watched as everyone nodded. "Okay, listen up close. We hit the museum in three days. So, take that time to prepare yourself because once we're in... there's no going back."


	7. IKE

Kyle was angry. No, scratch that, he was furious. One small trip home to visit his family had revealed something he didn't know what to do about. What could he do about it? He couldn't very well turn his own brother in, now could he? It was a thought he'd been struggling with since he'd entered Ike's room. Curious as to what the small suitcase on his bed held, he clicked it open. What was inside was not a sight he wanted to see. Countless news articles of Eric Cartman's past heists and blueprints of many of them were inside. It also held a calculator, protractor, pencil, walkie-talkie and a cell phone Kyle had never seen before. He flipped it open and checked his last call. A number he didn't recognize. What else could he do, but call it?

It rang. He waited.

"Ike? What the hell are you calling me from this phone for? I told you not to call me until I gave you the signal! ...Or is it that your nasty rat of a brother is catching on? ...Ike? Ike!"

Kyle couldn't speak. He felt his eyes widen and his hands shake. He dropped the phone and it smashed to the ground. "No..." he whispered, turning out of the room to locate his brother, but he stopped himself. Just because Ike happened to have a secret cell phone to make calls to Eric and had items to make blueprints and printed out articles... that didn't mean they were working together, right? Ike wasn't like that, right?

Somehow, Kyle knew he wasn't getting out of this one by ignoring it. He packed everything into the suitcase just like how it was before he opened it and took a step back. This was when Ike entered. "Kyle? What are you doing in my room?"

"Ahh, Ike," Kyle laughed, trying to hide his shock. "I was just looking for you."

"Oh, what for?" Ike said, noticing the suitcase on his bed and suddenly becoming anxious. "You didn't... look through any of my stuff, did you?"

"No, just got here, actually," Kyle said. He was just lucky he was a good liar. "Why? Do you have a stash of playboys or something?"

"What, no, of course not!"

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. "I guess I'll get back to work. But before so, I guess, is there anything you want to tell me?" He thought that was the easiest way to put it.

"Hm, like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've haven't really been at home for a while and when it has it hasn't been long. This case with Cartman has really been wearing me out," Kyle smiled slightly, hoping his brother would spill the beans. "So, if there was anything you wanted to tell me, now would be a good time."

Ike hated lying to his brother. It didn't make him feel good, didn't make him feel like he had something over him. It made him feel like a bad sibling. But he was doing this for Eric. Saying it to himself sounded painfully like he was stabbing Kyle in the back, but Kyle didn't know Eric's true intentions. He didn't know the real reason he wanted this ten million. Ike did and that was the sole reason he could not say anything.

"Nah, there's nothing."

Kyle looked down briefly before slapping on a grin, "No problem. I'll get back to work." He left Ike's room without another word.

Ike ran to the briefcase and flipped it open, grabbing the cell phone and dialing Eric's number.

"What the hell, Ike?"

"What?"

"You know what! What was with that call? You think I have time to do shit like this! We're finalizing the plans."

"Oh.. I know. I wouldn't call unless I was serious." Ike didn't remember calling Eric. Not at all. He knew to only use this cell phone when real shit was going down. "When did I call?"

"Just like, fucking, two minutes ago. Maybe not even that long."

Ike's eyes widened. Kyle. Kyle was the one that called. "A-and what did I say?"

"You said nothing, dipshit. You made a whispering sound and the phone dropped. You on drugs?"

"No, no, Cartman, that wasn't me!"

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"Kyle. Damn it, Cartman, it was Kyle."

There was no sound for about a minute. Ike could tell Eric was probably cursing up a storm inside that messed up brain of his, so he waited. "Fuck, well now he knows you're in on it?"

"He tried to question me, I think. I didn't say anything though, so he left."

"I'll call him."

"What, don't you think that's a little risky!?"

"It's fine. I'm in a busy mall now anyway. I'll just use a payphone."

"If you're sure... I mean, Jesus Christ, Cartman. If I didn't know what your real intentions were, I'd be going after you like crazy too. You're not giving Kyle an easy time of it. He's going to crack sooner or later."

"It's going to be later. He may be a little asshole, but he won't crack before we're done."

"If you say so. One more thing before you hang up." Ike narrowed his eyes and put on a scowl, even though he knew Eric couldn't see him. "If you hurt my brother, I will kill you."

Eric sighed and Ike could tell he was probably rolling his eyes. "I won't do anything to your fucking brother, alright? Jesus."

"You better keep your promise." With that, he hung up the phone, placing it back in the suitcase and shutting it tightly. He shoved it underneath his bed and let out a long sigh. Things used to be so much simpler when they were all kids.

.ooo.

"Hey, man, what's up with you? You look like you've seen a ghost." This was the greeting Kyle got from his best friend when he arrived at the station.

"Stan, can I tell you something? Something you can't tell anyone else?"

"Sure, Kyle. You know I'm always here for you."

"Okay, well, you know the case I'm working on? With Cartman?"

"Yeah, of course. How could I forget?" Stan let out a little chuckle.

"Stan... I think my brother is in on it... I know it now, actually. All the evidence was right there! But I couldn't do it... I couldn't question him. What would I say? I don't want to put him in danger even though he's putting himself in plenty. What should I do?"

"Shit... Are you sure?"

"Nearly positive."

"Well, the way I see it is, your bother is a brain, Kyle. He wouldn't do this sort of thing if he didn't know what he was getting into. I really don't think you need to worry about him. I understand about you not being able to question him as well. I mean, he is your brother. If you had to bring him in... Well, he'd probably feel like shit. Just watch him for a while, see how things go."

"You think?"

"I know!" Stan grinned. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. You'll get Cartman. It's a sure thing."

Kyle smiled softly, "Yeah, thanks."

"Oh, I've got more news that'll turn that lame little smile into a full on grin!"

"What is it?"

"You know that guy I was telling you about? Phoned him and everything. It's set. Our spy is in place!" Stan winked. "All we have to do is wait."


	8. Interrogation

It had been a half hour since Eric told Ike he would call Kyle, but he hadn't touched the phone. He just stood in front of it, awkwardly staring at passersby. He sighed and pulled out an antibacterial wipe and wiped down the phone before picking it up. He dialed the station and waited for an answer. For some strange reason, Ike's words had affected him.

_'I swear if you hurt my brother, I'll kill you.'_

Hurting Kyle wasn't really the plan. It never was. He just wanted to be the villain and play around with his hostages. That wasn't really a bad thing, was it? He shook his head as someone answered. Wendy again. He scoffed, rolling his eyes and disguising his voice again. "Hello, is this Detective Broflovski? I have to speak with him. It is very important."

"What is with all the calls to Kyle?" Wendy muttered. She was just as important on this investigation, in her opinion. "Okay, one moment please. I'll transfer you."

One moment passed. They must have been busy over there.

"...Hello, Detective Broflovski speaking?" He still didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but because Eric had been calling him so much lately, he was wary.

Eric cleared his throat, "Kahl, before you say anything, I've got a question to ask you."

"B-before I say anything! What the hell are you talking about? You think you can just call me at my work and act like it's no big deal! I'm the one hunting you down, you self-righteous bastard! Because of you, I have too many worries to even return to my own apartment! I practically live on this phone and you're telling me I can't speak first! Fuck you!" Kyle yelled. "Not to mention you've now gotten my brother involved! What for? He didn't do anything. He doesn't need this shit!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down there, Kahl. Who says Ike's involved?"

"Don't you dare try to act like he isn't. I know what you've done."

"Alright, so I'll admit Ike's in on it, but if it makes you feel any better, he isn't doing anything bad-" Eric was cut off. He heard a woman on the other line yelling at Kyle.

"Your brother is involved in this case!? What the hell are we doing here, then? Why didn't you bring him in for questioning?!"

Kyle stuttered back. "I-I just found out..." he trailed off.

Eric raised an eyebrow, listening closer.

"I'm sorry, Broflovski, but your emotions are getting the best of you. Maybe it's best if you talk to the chief. He'll pull you off the case."

"W-what? No, he can't do that!"

"Of course he can. He's the chief."

And that is all he heard before the phone was hung up, probably by the old bitch that was arguing with Kyle. That wasn't what Eric wanted. His grumbled something crude before hanging up the phone on his end. This wasn't what he wanted at all. If Kyle was pulled off the case, how was he supposed to complete what he wanted to? Worst of all, his plan would be meaningless.

Or would it? Maybe this was exactly what he needed, after all. If Eric knew Kyle, and he did, he also knew that if the chief did pull him off the case, he wouldn't stop looking. Maybe he would have to do it in secret, but he would still search.

"Damn," he mumbled. "Two days."

Two days until this crazy heist was to happen and Kyle didn't know where to search. This was good, but if things were to go down exactly as Eric planned them to, then he needed to pull a few strings here and there. He rubbed his head, looking around the busy area. "I should get back to home base. I'll talk to Kenny about this." Kenny, although he was poor and barely finished his education, was smart. In nearly every situation, he had the perfect words. Now, it wasn't like Eric to depend on someone, but sometimes he needed to rant and Kenny was always there to listen. Even when he was shot in the heart, had his neck snapped, fell off an apartment roof or even hung himself that one time, he still always came back to listen.

Eric was the only one who realized this, though. It was funny to know such a secret. But then again, Kenny's life was a funny thing. No matter how many times he may die, he always came back. Of course, everyone else would just remember him running off or something idiotic, but Eric knew the truth.

This was also why Kenny could smile. He may have died a lot, but every time he opened his crystal blue eyes, Eric was there to greet him and tell him what he missed.

Really, their entire relationship was just laughable. Eric was a psychotic thief who was given far too many chances in life that he always screwed up and Kenny was a poor bloke who, if he was given the chance, could have made so much more of himself.

Sometimes Eric felt bad for the guy, but then he reminded himself that he was a Cartman, and he had to stay focused. If he went around feeling bad for every poor sucker that ended up like Kenny, he'd be the biggest loser he could imagine. No, he wasn't like a hippie. He was strong, quick and smart.

He could do this.

.ooo.

Ike sat down in the interrogation room. He swallowed, nervous. Kyle knew he was a part of this scheme and now he was getting grilled for information. This wasn't exactly how he planned it to all go down.

"Listen to me, dammit! You are aware that this bastard is about to steal something priceless, are you not? Yet, you still chose to assist him. Exactly what were you thinking? I know you, Ike. This isn't like you," Wendy snapped. "Do you really want to be like Cartman?"

Ike rolled his eyes. He wasn't doing this because he wanted to be like Eric. Why the hell would anyone want to be like that asshole? He was doing this for Kyle. Every day he became so much worse and this was why Ike knew he was doing the right thing. Albeit, Kyle may not have thought so at first.

"Answer me!"

"Piss off, Wendy. I'm not telling you shit."

He saw her eyes twitching and couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"You think this is funny?"

"Not a bit."

She slammed her hands onto the desk, gave him a nasty glare and told him she'd be right back before exiting the room. She spoke with her squad briefly before they all left the premises. Just seconds later, Kyle snuck in, shutting the door behind him and staying close to it. He gave Ike a disappointed look.

"The chief... uh, pulled me off the case, you know," he ran a hand through his messy red hair.

"What?" Ike was surprised, but then again, after withholding important information because of emotional attachment, he figured Kyle had it coming. If only he'd hid that briefcase... but he wasn't expecting Kyle to suddenly show up. He never did that.

"If they notice me still working on it, I could get fired."

"Kyle... Who cares what they say? Don't you want to find Cartman?"

"I don't really think you can ask me that. Not now. After all, you're working for him, aren't you? You won't even speak a word about where he is, but it doesn't matter. I'll... I'll do what I can to get you out of here, Ike, but... After this..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'll do what I can."

"Kyle, wait!"

"What?"

"Butters. Butters. He's Stan's spy, isn't he?"

Kyle's eyes widened, "What? How could you know that?"

"Because. I may be working with Cartman, but I'm not doing it for him. You have to trust me."

Kyle frowned, "I can't now. Sorry, Ike." He pulled the door open and shut it behind him once more on the other side. He couldn't trust Ike's words. There was no telling what lies he was speaking. He was lying this entire time, after all.

Stan came running toward him suddenly, with arms flailing. "Kyle, I heard about Ike!"

"I don't want to talk about it..." he leaned against the wall.

Stan stopped in front of him, "Kyle... Jesus, I'm sorry. This case doesn't seem to be getting easier for you. But... I don't know if I can say it'll get better, but I do have news."

"It doesn't matter. They threw me off the case."

"But it's big news. It'll help you!"

"Stan," Kyle nearly snapped. "I'm off the case. Just tell Wendy." He pushed himself off the wall and started wobbling down the hallway. He could barely see around him he was in such bad condition.

Stan didn't leave, though. He walked beside him. "Man, don't mention that name around me anymore... Wendy's a bitch."

"What?" Kyle raised his eyebrows.

"She's fucking cheating on me with Token," he rubbed his eyes. "I overheard them on the phone."

Kyle stopped walking and his frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Stan..."

"Don't be... I mean, I knew things were off for a while. We were drifting apart and we couldn't keep it up. She was too busy... If I see Token, though, I don't know what I'll do. So, let's get out of here."

Kyle could swear he saw a tear trickle down his best friend's cheek and silently cursed at Wendy and Token. He knew it all along.

"You know what we could both use?" Stan mumbled after a while.

"What?" Kyle quietly said.

"Alcohol." He threw and arm over Kyle's shoulder and started to drag him out the doors and onto the sidewalk. "Let's go to the bar and indulge ourselves. Just this one time... Okay?" his voice cracked and Kyle could tell he needed this.

"Yeah... okay."


	9. Anxiety Hits

Kyle and Stan entered the small pub near Stan's condo. Even though Stan had lived there for years, Kyle had only been inside his place twice. It was because they rarely saw each other anymore because of Kyle's near obsession with the Cartman Case. Now that he was kicked off it, maybe they could spend more time together.

They took seats at one of the small tables and waved over a waitress. "Just two beers," Stan decided for them. He wasn't planning on getting drunk, but if things happened that way he wouldn't really mind. At least his mind would be on things other than Wendy.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on but he wasn't about to leave Stan alone inside a pub. That spelled disaster in every way. He had to be the mature one in this situation.

"Did you ever... like, see Wendy and Token together?" Stan asked out of the blue when they had been seated for at least five minutes. The woman had passed them their beer and retreated behind the bar. He took a small sip before Kyle answered.

"Well... I guess... I spoke to Token about it a few times but he kept assuring me that it was nothing; that they were only friends and he just wanted to help out with the case."

"Shit... she was so stealthy about it."

"Stan..." Kyle wanted to say something to make him feel better, but he couldn't think of anything. He didn't really think he was in any shape to be giving advice either, so he stayed silent.

Stan took another drink and rubbed his eyes. "Wendy..." he mumbled, obviously still thinking about her. "I miss her..."

"You shouldn't miss someone who cheated on you," Kyle scolded.

"I know, but I still do," he frowned. "I can't help it."

"Well, help it." Kyle sat back and crossed his arms. He hadn't touched his beer yet. "Look, I know it's going to be hard but eventually you will forget her."

"Yeah, someday..."

.ooo.

Two hours later, they were still seated in the bar, in the same positions except with six more beer bottles. It was amazing how much Kyle could drink even though he told himself he had to be the responsible one. Stan was actually holding up rather well considering.

"...and that was grade 11..." Kyle hiccupped. "In grade twelve, ... Cartman did, like, stuff... 'n like... a whole other level..."

"Kyle, are you okay, man? I think I should take you home."

"No... gimme another beer...!" he pressed his hands on the table, attempting to push himself up when he tripped over his feet and fell over.

"Yeah, okay, that's enough beer for you," Stan hopped off his chair quickly to his best friend's aid. He put an arm around his waist and pulled Kyle's arm over his shoulders, lifting him up. "I'm going to take you to my place, alright? It's closer and frankly I'm not entertaining the idea of walking you home. That would be a pain."

"Boo..." Kyle mumbled, dragging his feet across the store as Stan paid and headed outside.

It was dark by the time Stan pushed open the door to his condo. He flicked on the lights and looked around. Everything was as it usually was except one thing: Wendy was no longer there. She had packed her bags and left. He let the love of his life get away and with Token of all people.

"Token," he cringed, kicking off his shoes.

Kyle made a soft mumbling noise, reminding Stan he was still there.

"Ah, shit, right," Stan pushed open the door to the spare bedroom and walked over, setting the redhead down with a sigh. He swung his arm around, "Damn, I'm exhausted..."

Before he could rest, he pulled Kyle's shoes off and set them beside the bed. He was still wearing a tie, so Stan took that off too and hung it over the door. "That should do it..." he rubbed his eyes, taking off his own jacket and socks. He was far too tired and upset to change or even more for that matter and he figured Kyle wouldn't mind if he slept in the same bed.

He pulled up the covers and jumped in, accidentally waking Kyle. "Oh, shit, sorry."

Kyle slowly propped himself up, "Whereami?" He said it so slurred it all sounded like one word.

"My house. Just go to sleep, okay? You're drunk."

He frowned, "...'m sorry, Stan... I din't mean to..."

"Don't worry about it. I know you're having a hard time. It seems we both are, so don't worry about it, okay? Just sleep." He placed a comforting hand on Kyle's head.

"No I... No... I know I had suspicions ab...out Wen'y and Token, but I din't say anything..."

"You had suspicions? But you didn't know, so it's not like you didn't tell me in that circumstance." He laid back and rested his hands behind his head. "I don't want you worrying over my problems when you already have your own."

Kyle scooted closer to Stan and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. It wasn't weird for this sort of occurrence to happen between the two because they were so close, but it usually only happened when one of them was drunk enough.

Stan smiled and wrapped his arms around Kyle. It was comforting to him to know that he could fall asleep and wake up to someone who actually cared about him, even if it was only as friends. It was true care and he felt better about letting Wendy go like this.

.ooo.

Morning came and Kyle woke with a raging headache. His eyes felt as if they might fall out so he kept them shut as he sat up. He didn't remember much of last night or how he even got home. Or, was he home? He opened his eyes and squinted from the light. He felt a presence next to him and noticed Stan sleeping soundly.

"He must have..." Kyle nodded to himself. He rubbed his head and got out of the bed, slowly walking to the kitchen in search for some pain killers. "Ugh," he groaned, checking each cabinet until he located a bottle of Advil. Taking two, he swallowed them down with a glass of cold water.

"How are you feeling?" Stan asked from behind him. Kyle jumped, nearly choking on the rest of the water. Stan laughed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Kyle waved his hand, "I'm okay. Headache."

"I thought you might," he walked into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open. "I'll make some breakfast, so sit at the table."

"I should get to work... I have to see what's going on with Ike."

"You can spare ten minutes eating breakfast, can't you?"

"...I guess."

As Stan cooked, Kyle sat down at the kitchen table. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, wishing for his headache to disappear. Within moments, Stan set down a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of him and motioned for him to eat.

"Thanks," Kyle said, taking a bite of the eggs. "I can't remember the last time I actually sat down to eat breakfast."

"That's probably not healthy."

"Probably, but I didn't really care... I was so obsessed with finding Cartman that that was the only thing I did care about."

Stan sighed, but then shook his head, quickly jolting up, "Oh yeah! That thing I wanted to tell you but you were too upset to listen to! The important thing!"

"What?"

"Butters! Butters called back! He knows where Cartman is going to strike!"

"Wait, what?" Kyle yelled, quickly standing up from his seat. "But... wait, I can't go. It's not my case anymore."

"Dude, fuck that. What can they do if you just happen to arrive at the scene at the exact time and place Cartman is on his dumb heist?"

"But if we found out, we'd have to tell the rest of the force... It's not like I can handle it all by myself and if I tell them, they'll know I know and then if I show up..." he trailed off. "It's no good."

"The least we can do is tell them. I'd rather it be you than Wendy that takes care of Cartman, but we can't really withhold this."

"Unfortunately... You're right."

.ooo.

One day. Eric Cartman had just unpacked the last things from his bag as they'd checked into their latest hotel. This place was more up to Eric's standards. It was far cleaner and bigger.

He sat down on one of the beds and stretched. He was ready, right? He thought he was. Tomorrow was the night where it all went down. Everybody knew their jobs and they had been preparing for ages. They were all ready and they were all going to do well.

"Yo, Eric, what now?" Kenny called from the bathroom.

"What do you mean?" Eric said.

"If the heist is tomorrow, what are we doing today?"

"Nothing. Preparations, more or less. Take this opportunity to make sure you know what you're doing and that you'll do it well."

He heard Kenny chuckle, but the blonde didn't say anything after that.

Kyle better show up tomorrow. That was the only thought running through Eric's head. he would never say so, but this was making him anxious.

"Kyle," he whispered, narrowing his eyes. "Don't let me down."


	10. The End

**A/C: For the people that thought this chapter was a little confusing or rushed, I'm terrible sorry! ; v ; I'm forcing myself to update as regularly as I can, but I have a lot of work since university started. I promise I'll work harder from now on though! (For this chapter alone, though, it's supposed to be a bit confusing, I think. The part about the gunshot ((both I suppose)) are supposed to leave you wondering for a bit. I guess I'm not making that clear? Ahh, I'm sorry! DX I'll work harder, I promise!)**

* * *

Wendy looked furious. Stan looked happy.

Kyle rubbed his burning eyes. This wasn't the result he'd pictured, but if Stan was happy, he didn't really care. After all, as the man's best friend, it was his duty to hate Wendy as well.

"So, you just decided to tell us about two hours before this alleged heist is supposed to take place? Do you want him to win, Kyle? Do you want him to get the satisfaction of getting one hundred million dollars from that museum?" Wendy hissed.

Kyle didn't think that assumption was fair. He hadn't found out _that_ long ago. "No, Wendy, you know I left it this long because I get satisfaction from seeing you angry," he said sarcastically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, since you're not letting me accompany you, I'm going to accompany Stan to his new girlfriend's house," he snapped at her. "Oh, fuck, did I let that slip?" he glanced at Stan, "I'm sorry."

Stan chuckled, playing along, "It's cool, dude. She's not really a secret." He watched the horrified look on Wendy's face and couldn't help but feel pretty good.

"Let's go," Kyle huffed, dragging Stan down the hall until Wendy was no longer in sight. "God, what a bitch," he mumbled. "I just want to go home and sleep."

"What?" Stan placed a hand on Kyle's head, stopping him in his tracks. "Wait, you're not actually... You're not going to go?"

"Why would I? I could get fired for that," Kyle said.

"And you don't already hate this job enough to leave it? Kyle, you've been complaining since I don't know when. Don't you want to go out with a bang?"

Although the thought was tempting, Kyle did need this job. He needed money to pay his rent. Rent for an apartment he never even stepped into longer than a half hour. That didn't seem right... He shook his head, "Movie night?"

"If you're sure... We can rent some movies and chill at my place, then. We'll get your brilliant mind off of this stupid case, okay?" he ruffled his friend's hair and smiled.

"Thanks," Kyle returned the smile.

.ooo.

Eric was ready. Everyone on Eric's team was ready. All the decisions are preparations were finalized and they all had all their equipment to do their assigned jobs. A few of them had already run off to the museum to take care of said jobs. Butters, Red, Kevin and Tweek were sent, much to Craig's disapproval, alone at separate times to stake the place out and make sure they were ready. Their jobs were the most important, after all.

"Fuck, when are we fucking leaving already?" Craig yelled. "It's about time!"

"Calm yourself," Eric said. "We're leaving now. Is everyone ready? Don't mess this up."

"We're ready," the remainder called.

Eric motioned for everyone to get up and follow him out the door. He sent Craig and Clyde first and waited until they were in the elevator before leaving with Kenny. They got in the second elevator and pressed the lobby button, waiting only seconds before the doors reopened and they walked out.

Eric had prepared a car in the parking lot of the hotel where Craig, Clyde, Kenny and he were to meet up, so as soon as they reached the outside, they headed in that direction. Clyde and Craig were waiting by the car. Eric quickly unlocked it and motioned everyone inside.

The sun was setting as they hit the road and there was complete silence except the occasional chatter from Clyde and Craig's less than enthusiastic grunts as responses.

When they reached their destination, they drove into a clearing inside a nearby forest where they met Butters and Tweek.

Eric stopped the car angrily, wondering what the fuck they were doing there. "What the hell?" he hissed, jumping out and running up to them. "Why aren't you doing your jobs?!"

Tweek jumped, yelling his signature, "Gah!"

Butters frowned, "W-well w-we were going to b-but the police showed up."

"WHAT?" Eric yelled, enraged. "How the fuck did they know where we were going to be? Where are Red and Kevin?"

"W-well, they got inside just before they showed up, so I d-don't know what they're doing..."

Eric pulled out his cell phone and dialed Red. He impatiently waited for a response.

"What do you want Cartman? I'm kind of in the middle of something!" she snapped.

"What the hell's going on in there?" he demanded.

"Well, Wendy's bitches showed up along with the rest of the cavalry just after Kev and I got inside," she quickly said, seemingly out of breath. "We took down nearly six guards, Christ. I'm where I'm supposed to be, though and I've taken care of my part. There's no guard monitoring the security cameras anymore. Kev's working on the alarms as well as the laser since that little asshole Butters never showed up."

Eric gave Butters a nasty glare before returning to the conversation. "Alright, good. Estimate how many police officers are there?"

"About ten more after the ones we've taken out . They're patrolling the area, but they haven't noticed us yet. We've been stealthy, but it's only a matter of time, so get your asses in gear!"

"Alright, we can handle that much. One more thing, is _he_ there?"

"I haven't seen him, sorry," she replied before hanging up.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair. "Come on. Let's go. You got your guns?"

They all nodded, but before leaving, Eric stopped Butters. "No. You're the outside distraction now, got it? There'll be a few guards outside the place, and your new job it to pull them away. If they only have sixteen-ish people on the job right now, they'll get more. So, reel them in. Now, go!"

Butters jumped, biting his lip. He was hesitant and Eric could see it. "I fucking knew it. You're a rat, aren't you? It's your fault they know we're here. In a usual case, you'd follow me without a question, but if you're a rat, you'd be shaking like you are right now! I knew those calls you'd been making at night weren't just to your parents. Fucking rat!" Eric pulled out his gun and aimed it at Butters. "I feel no sympathy for scum like you."

"Nngh, oh my God!" Tweek placed his hands over his mouth.

"Whoa, Eric, calm down!" Kenny yelled.

"No, this is personal now!" he snapped back, pressing the trigger toward Butters.

There was a silenced shot and a wide eyed gasp from Butters. Blood poured out of the blonde's forehead as he fell to the ground.

Butters almost had a mind to scream. He turned around and ran as fast as he could while Clyde bent down next to Kenny and yelled, "Holy shit, dude! You killed him!"

Tweek let out a muffled scream from under the palms of his hands. He shook even more violently than usual.

Eric glanced up after Butters, but he was too far to get a good shot now. He rolled his eyes. Typical. "Kenny, you bastard. Just leave him here. Let's keep going."

"What!? What the fuck, man, you killed him!" Clyde's eyes started to water like the baby he was. He still hadn't grown out of that phase, Eric noticed.

"Jesus Christ," Craig muttered, placing a hand on his forehead, wondering what he should do. Leaving Kenny here didn't seem that great an option. He walked over to Tweek, trying to calm the jittery guy down.

"I said just leave him here. Trust me, okay?" Eric said. "There's nothing to worry about! Let's go!"

Clyde stood up, rubbing his eyes. "Okay, God!"

"You'd better fucking make this worth our while, asshole," Craig said.

"Yeah, whatever, Craig," he held his phone close to him, remembering that Ike was still on speed dial. After all, he still had one last job to do.

The four criminals made their way up the small hill toward the museum. "Okay, Clyde, I need you to act as the distraction now. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, I can do it," he said quietly. He jumped up and ran toward the building, yelling, "Hey, bullies with authority, it's me, Eric Cartman!" In the dark, from afar, Clyde Donovan very well could be Eric Cartman. "You assholes want me, you gotta catch me!"

The three guards that had been patrolling glanced at each other stupidly before running full force toward the brunette. "Shit," Clyde mumbled, running off in another direction to lead them as far away as he could.

"Alright, let's go," Eric said again, standing up with Craig and Tweek, who was still shaking. They ran toward the front entrance and upon reaching the doors, cautiously peered inside. There was no one. "Tweek, you're up."

The blonde let out a small squeak, but nodding despite that. He really wasn't planning on going against Eric at this point.

"Be careful," Craig ordered.

He nodded and pulled the door open, slowly stepping inside. He had the grace of a rhino as he walked forward, bumping into nearly everything he passed. He was clearly scared out of his mind. Well, you would be too if you were doing all this for a sadistic murderer. Your life was always on the line when working for Eric.

He turned around, motioning for Craig and Eric to come inside and continued down the hall. "N-ngh, H-Hammertime!" he yelled, running down the hall. Craig and Eric ducked into the nearest room, a janitor's closet and waited as they heard four sets of feet running after Tweek, yelling, "Stop!"

"Fuck," Craig grinded his teeth. "If he dies, I'll kill you."

"I get it!" Eric replied.

They got out of the closet just in time to face a single armed guard. This was no challenge, though. Craig lunged forward and kneed him, making him double over. This was when Craig punched him in the back of the head, knocking him straight out. "Okay, coasts clear," he dragged him into the janitor's closet and shut the door. "There shouldn't be more guards left after this."

"Yeah," Eric was excited. He was so close to his ten million that he could almost feel the money in his hands.

They raced down the hallway side by side, when they heard two gunshots. Craig's eyes went wide and he whipped around. "Wait, fuck, no! I have to go back!"

"You can't!"

"I have to!" Craig yelled, turning on his heels when he saw two guards coming back. "Assholes," he hissed, wasting no time pulling up his gun and shooting them both until they dropped.

"You don't know he's hurt," Eric said.

"I don't know that he's not," Craig replied angrily.

Just then, their attention was turned to a breathless blonde, running down the hall and holding his shoulder.

"Tweek," Craig said, relief evident in his whisper. He hugged the jittery man as he came closer. "What happened back there?" he asked after pulling back.

"O-one of the-ngh-guards shot the other by accident a-and another was knocked out," he managed to say. "But I hid after that, s-so I think they thought I doubled back and came this way." He glanced at the bodies he passed.

"Oh... That makes sense," Craig rubbed his head.

"Okay, can we skip this little gay-fest?" Eric grumbled. "We have a mission, remember?"

"Fuck you, fatso," Craig said. He ripped a part of his own shirt off and tied it around the graze on Tweek's shoulder. "There. Now, we can go."

Eric sighed, walking forward. He guessed there wasn't a chance Craig would let Tweek be a distraction again. He pulled out his phone and called Kevin. "What's going on at your end?"

"I've hacked into the system. I'm with Red now. You can go ahead. The only thing I can't seem to disarm is that laser. Butters was supposed to. Um... I've made it visible, at the least. You're gonna have to do some jumping, I think. It shouldn't be too bad, though."

"Good. Tweek, Craig and I are heading down. Clyde's distracting the guards, Kenny's back in the forest and should be catching up with us soon."

"What about Butters?"

"He's an asshole. That's all," he hung up. "We're good for alarms."

Craig nodded, holding his gun closely. "Why the hell didn't Kenny come anyway?"

"He's staying back to make sure we weren't followed," Eric made up a random excuse. Sometimes he got tired of making up excuses, but at the same time, he was the only one who could. Kenny always shrugged or laughed it off.

Craig mumbled something and Eric took it as an "Okay" and moved forward.

They entered the main area. From the blueprints, Eric new they needed to go left, so he quickly made the turn and headed down that hallway. It was quiet.

There was an archway filled with moving red lasers at the end of the corridor and just by glancing, Eric knew that was where they needed to go.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" a guard yelled from behind them.

"Fuck," Eric slowly turned around.

"Lift your hands up!" the guard yelled, but before he could call for backup, Kenny appeared almost out of nowhere and gave him a chop to the neck.

"Sorry I took so long," he let out a chuckle.

"Good timing," Eric said. "Keep watch with these two, will you?"

"You know I will."

"Good," Eric turned back around and to the laser room. He stepped inside. Now was where he put those athletics to use. There were about ten motion sensor lasers moving around and they each triggered the one alarm Stoley couldn't deactivate. Eric knew he should have brought Ike after all.

He sighed, shaking his head and made his first jump. This was the easy part. The rest was going to have to go fast. He bent down, jumped to the side and onto his hands, then dropped to the floor and crab walked about five seconds before he flipped over and back onto his feet. He dodged the next set of lasers by cartwheeling to the left and doing a front flip. He then proceeded to the other side of the room by momentarily doing something that looked like the worm, another flip and one last somersault to safety.

Kenny clapped, whistling, but Eric dismissed that and stepped forward to the final room. He kicked open the door and peered inside. It was darker than every other room. He pushed the door open further, letting some light flow in and walked up to the only thing in the room: the priceless painting.

He felt warm, excited and anxious as he reached out and pulled it down, taking the painting out of its frame and rolling it, shoving it into a black container specifically for this purpose. He grinned, satisfied beyond belief and shoved the container in his bag. "Fuck, I did it..."

He almost felt like laughing, but the job was not over yet, not until everyone was out and safe. He called Red again.

"You get it?"

"I got it. You and Kevin get out of there."

"We're on it." Eric could hear the joy in her voice.

He looked around briefly before motioning to Craig and the others to get out as well. The three of them nodded and ran as fast as their feet could take them. Eric was not far behind.

The only thing Eric found weird was that there was no sign of Wendy or her gang. Where had they been this entire time? The museum did have three floors, but if Butters did squeal, Wendy would know they were hitting the first. He sighed, confused.

He watched Craig, Tweek and Kenny run out the museum doors and down the hill.

Had they actually done it? It was like a dream. He couldn't believe it... As he ran to the doors leading outside, he stopped dead in his tracks. There, now standing in front of him was a wide eyed daywalker holding a gun.

Kyle's emerald eyes shone even brighter in the moonlight and his red hair was messy, like he'd just gotten out of bed. His skin was pale, but the most notable thing was that he was shaking. Even meters away, Eric could see him shaking.

He felt superior. "Why, Kahl, I thought you were pulled off this case. What are you doing here?" he quickly whipped out his extra gun, knowing there were no bullets inside. He just wanted to use it to scare the man. He pointed it at Kyle.

"Shut up!" Kyle yelled.

"But you could get fired," Eric said, smirking.

"I said shut up!" Kyle held his gun tighter.

"Where's Wendy and her gang? I heard they'd come. I'd like to say hi."

"Well, that's too bad," Kyle clenched his teeth. "There was a murder in south park. She was called off this to tend to the details shortly after she arrived."

"Oh, pity."

"Give me the painting," he said.

"Why should I?"

"If you won't obey the law, I'll shoot!"

"What if I shoot first?"

"You wouldn't," Kyle tilted his head just the slightest to get a better look at Eric's gun. He didn't want to be shot, but now, facing the notorious Eric Cartman once more, he wasn't sure he could fire the trigger either.

"I would," Eric closed an eye.

Kyle seemed to jump, his eyes growing wider. He heard someone calling him. It couldn't have been... "Stan?" he whispered to himself, turning around. "Is that you?" he called back.

"Hey, don't turn away from me!" Eric yelled, firing his 'blank'.

That's what he thought it was.

That wasn't what it was.


	11. Fire

**Ｈｉ ｇｕｙｓ！ Ｓｏｒｒｙ， ａｍ Ｉ ｌａｔｅ？ Ｈａｖｅ ａ ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ！**

* * *

Kyle was lying at the museum's entrance covered in his own blood and it was entirely Eric's fault. Stan let out a horrible scream and this was when Eric knew he had to make his escape. He rushed to the doors just seconds before Stan reached Kyle and ran for it. He ran to the meeting spot as fast as he possibly could, pushing back the memory of what he just did. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it, especially not now.

He could hear Stan screaming after him just long enough to run into the woods and to the clearing. It wouldn't be long before police cars arrived at the scene and so they had to move fast.

"Everyone, into the car. Now!" he yelled, motioning to the dark vehicle.

"What happened?" Kevin asked as they all climbed inside.

"Nevermind. I'll talk later." Eric jumped into the front seat and started the engine, pulling out of the clearing and down the road. He drove quickly and in silence for the rest of the ride. Everyone was curious as to what had gotten Eric into such a frenzy but they didn't dare speak. If they did, there was no telling what would happen to them.

So they were silent. All seven of them. Red, Kevin, Craig, Tweek, Kenny, Eric and Clyde, who'd managed to make it back safe enough, aside a few risky grazes.

Once Eric thought they were safe enough, hours had passed and they were in a small town. Red booked them two rooms for a few nights and they'd all rushed upstairs. Kenny motioned everyone inside the room he, Eric and Clyde were sharing and he shut the door.

"Okay, we can talk now," Kenny said.

"Good because I'm confused as hell," Red snapped. "What happened back there? Do you have the painting?"

Eric pulled the case out of his bag. "Here, it's here, okay?" As he took a look at the case, he was able to momentarily forget about Kyle. He was happy. He'd finally gotten it. All their hard work was worth it and for a moment, he let himself smile.

The rest of the team took this as their cue to start grinning like idiots and cheering. Kenny chuckled, shaking his head and ran to the mini fridge to grab some pop cans out. (Unfortunately, there was no beer.) He passed the cans around and received more smiles and goofy laughs. Everyone was happy. But everyone didn't know about what really went down that night and as Eric retreated to the bathroom to let the others have their fun, thoughts of Kyle's shocked face popped into his head once more.

It wasn't like letting other people have fun was his kind of thing. He'd rather pull everyone else down with this fact too, but he didn't _want_ them to know. He didn't want them to know how fucking _bad_ he felt about it.

Why did he feel bad? Kyle was just some stupid Jew, right? So why was he so conflicted, so guilty?

He ran the icy water and grabbed a washcloth from the shelf, letting it soak up the cold before he washed his face, shivering slightly.

He leaned against the countertop and stared at his face in the mirror. His hair was messy and knotted, his eyes were bloodshot and dark. His expression showed anger. He truly looked like a murderer. Well, he was one after all. He was.

What if he really did kill Kyle? He didn't know if he could live with that guilt.

God damn, he was Eric Cartman! Why did he feel this shitty!?

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"It's me," Kenny answered. Kenny. Of course it was Kenny.

"What do you want?"

"Open the door."

"No."

"Eric, open this God damn door, you motherfucking idiot."

Eric narrowed his eyes but opened the door despite that. "What do you want, Kenny?"

"Something else went down tonight. What was it?" he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "You have that look in your eyes."

Eric figured if he could tell anyone, it would be Kenny. Not like he wanted to rely on the man, but some advice from time to time wasn't always a bad idea.

"I shot him and I don't know if he's even alive. I shot Kyle and he could be dead. I _shot_ him and then I ran."

Kenny's eyes widened only momentarily. He cleared his throat, nodding slowly. "I see. Was there anyone else around? Anyone that called the police or an ambulance?"

"That ass Stan was there," Eric said.

"Then Kyle is probably in the hospital. You couldn't have killed him."

"Couldn't is never in my vocabulary. Why would it decide to be now? Fucking gun. I swear it wasn't loaded."

"That... must have been Butters... He told me he was loading extra guns. I didn't really think anything of it, though," he rubbed his head. "Sorry, man. But don't worr... Wait, you're worried?"

"Fuck, I don't know. The only other time I've ever felt like this is when those people with butts for faces came to South Park. What the hell, I don't know what this is."

"Remember, Kyle told you that you felt guilty. Eric, it makes sense. You feel bad because you really do care about him."

"Shut up, no I don't," he grumbled.

"You do, whether you care to admit it or not," Kenny said as he opened the door once more. "Anyway, you'd better call Ike. It's time."

Eric hissed at him. He knew it was time.

Ike answered within seconds, practically screaming. "Eric, how'd it go!?"

"It went fine," he muttered. He couldn't bring himself to tell Ike that he'd shot his brother. There's no way Ike would deliver that way. "It's time."

"Okay, I'm on it," Ike said. "Just give me a few minutes."

Just as he had done before with President Obama, Ike was about to perform another round of fake deaths. Eric had prepared a plane to leave the country, see, and there were to be some "technical difficulties." Unfortunately, the engine would heat up and smoke would start to appear, but nobody noticed in time and before they knew it, flames arose. Alas, their getaway would blow up.

This was Ike's final job. To make sure the world "knew" that Eric Cartman, Kenny McCormick and Clyde Donovan were "dead." These three were the three that police had been after for this long. Fortunately, after everything was over, Red, Kevin, Craig and Tweek could go back to their normal lives and not fear that Eric might contact them again. This was it. It was over and this is why everyone could really smile as they were.

Even that idiot Butters could go back to his normal life, though he'd probably fear Eric forever, which was exactly how Eric wanted it, so he didn't complain.

He left the bathroom and walked back into the party. Red and Kevin were laughing and hugging each other. Craig was tending to Tweek's wound, but both were smiling. Kenny had walked up to Clyde to strike up conversation as they both drank from their cans and once again, Eric felt lonely.

.OOO.

"What, they're dead?" Kyle nearly screamed, squinting as he did.

Stan quickly stood up, reaching out to gently push him back onto the hospital bed, "Don't sit up, you'll pull your stitches."

"Even Kenny?" Kyle frowned.

Stan nodded solemnly, "Apparently their escape plane went up in flames. Their obits were released this morning."

"It's been a week since the heist, though," Kyle sighed. "Shit, I can't believe this."

"I gotta tell you, Kyle, this wasn't really the reaction I was expecting. I mean, Cartman shot you, remember?"

"I remember," Kyle said. "Of course I remember."

"Then why do you look so upset?"

"If Wendy died, you'd be sad, right?"

"Yeah... I suppose I would."

"Isn't this kind of the same? I mean, it's obvious why I feel this way about Kenny and Clyde. Although they were working for Cartman, they never really were huge assholes... But Cartman as well, even though he was a massive dick, he was still so young... Plus, we've known him for as long as I can remember. What's wrong with feeling sad about that?"

"I guess... I see where you're coming from." Stan sat back in his seat. "You were always the most sympathetic one, you know."

Kyle let out a sigh and slowly turned to look out the window. "Did I tell you that the chief came in and fired me?"

"What? Why?" Stan yelled. "You didn't do anything wrong!"

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, "Of course I did. I showed up at the crime scene and "took" you with me. In his words. He fired me right on the spot."

"I followed you!" Stan said.

"I know, but that doesn't matter to him," Kyle turned to look back at his friend. "I'll have to live with my parents until I can find another job... My rent's already up."

"You can stay with me."

"I appreciate it, but I don't want to be a burden."

"But-"

"It's okay, Stan," Kyle smiled. "I can't really explain it, but I think I'll be okay. For the first time in a long time, I feel free."

Stan opened his mouth to argue that, but shook it off. If Kyle was feeling happy, who was he to trample on that? He smiled as well, "I'm happy for you. I guess that job was really hurting you, huh?"

"I guess so. I didn't realize it so much until I was actually let go. It feels... weirdly good."

Stan reached forward and placed a hand on his head as he stood up, "Good. You need to be happy." He pulled his hand back and stretched. "I guess I'd better head out as well."

"To your new girlfriend?" Kyle chuckled.

Stan smirked, "For real this time. She's a hell of a lot better than Wendy. Supper is already on the table. She made Spicy Curry and stir fry. Oh, dude, tonight's dessert is lady fingers!" he was practically drooling.

Kyle let out a small chuckle.

"I have to have you over for dinner when you get out of the hospital."

"I'll look forward to it," Kyle smiled, rubbing his head. It still hurt from the fall.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Stan said.

Kyle nodded, "Say hello to Lola for me."

"Will do, man."

As Stan left his room, Kyle lay his head on the pillow once more. He was content, despite losing his job. He didn't really know why, either. It almost felt like fate.

There was a quick knock on his door. "Stan? Did you forget something?" he called, figuring Stan was the only person it could be.

The door opened and Kyle cocked his head up to get a better view. A tall man stood in front of him. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and his hood was pulled over his hair, but there was no mistake. Kyle knew exactly who it was.

His eyes grew wide.

"Cartman?"


	12. Passion

**Hi guys! Early chapter to make up for me being a bit late last time! :)**

* * *

"No, it can't be you. You're dead! What are you coming back as a ghost now so you can haunt me in the afterlife?" Kyle was hysterical. He was screaming and he didn't even believe the words he was saying. Eric couldn't be a ghost, but he was dead, right? If he wasn't a ghost, then what, exactly, was he?

"Ssh," he pressed a finger to his lips. They were pale, Kyle noticed. Maybe he really was a ghost. He started to walk forward, but Kyle held up a hand.

"What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here? What's going on?!" he yelled, rage filling his mind once more. This was the very man who shot him, after all. He did have a right to be angry. "And to think I was actually feeling sorry for you! What, did you fake your death?" he looked around the room. Alas, there was no phone. "I'll call the police. Get out! I'll call the police right now!"

"There isn't a phone here." Eric's voice was quiet. Far too quiet.

"I'll yell for the nurse if you don't get out right now!" Kyle was panicking. He had no clue what was going on. The only logical thing he could think up was that this was a dream. A very, _very _realistic dream but a dream nonetheless.

"Kyle," Eric started.

No _Kahl _this time? This was definitely a dream.

"Kyle, I'm sorry," he said.

Eric Cartman... _apologizing? _Now Kyle knew for sure he was dreaming. Why did it have to feel so real? Eric was so close he could reach forward and touch him.

He shook his head once he realized what he was thinking. Rather than touch him, he wanted to push him away. "Get out. Your apologies are nothing to me. Get out!"

Eric looked solemn. It was an expression he never displayed. He couldn't blame Kyle for acting like this. No matter how much he wanted to, there was no point to it. He was to blame. Everything that went down that night was entirely his fault.

There was a loud smack from behind them. At the door stood Ike. He'd dropped his backpack onto the floor once he'd laid eyes on the infamous criminal. His shocked face turned upset and then angry all too fast for Eric and he lunged forward with readied fists. Eric knew this was it for today. He needed to get out of there.

He ducked to the right and bolted it out the door. Ike screamed in frustration.

"Ike..." Kyle frowned.

He turned to face his older brother with tearstained eyes. "I know I've told you this a million times already, but you know I'd never have helped him if I knew this was going to happen."

"I know, Ike." Kyle wasn't sure if this was okay to ask, but he did so anyway. "Ike, he's alive?"

Ike frowned, looking away. "It was my last job." He figured he owed Kyle this much to tell him the truth. "To make it look like Kenny, Clyde and Cartman were dead. I'm sorry... I figured I'd do the others the justice of not saying anything. They don't deserve to be found, but Cartman... he deserves to die."

"Don't say that," Kyle said. He let the relief of knowing Kenny and Clyde were alive wash over him as he spoke his next words. "Nobody _deserves_ to die. He's done wrong and I would love nothing more than to give him a really hard punch to the face! ... But I don't know... Now that I'm thinking back on it with a clear head, when he came in to apologize, he did sound genuine... But that's Cartman. He's a liar, after all. I don't know what to think."

"Don't believe him. He's a jackass. When you get out of the hospital you can have nothing more to do with him. I'll help you look for a new job and you can start over."

"Thanks," Kyle gave him a small smile but just a moment before laying back down. "I think I'm going to get some rest now, though."

"Okay. Take it easy, though. Don't get too worked up or you'll pull your stitches."

"I know, I know," Kyle waved his hand. "Go on, get outta here."

Ike chuckled, "Sleep well, bro."

Kyle hoped Eric wouldn't come back or at least that Stan could be here when he did. He didn't want to have to talk to him ever again. Every word he spoke was a lie. He wasn't capable of showing true emotion.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, ready to forget about the world around him. Ready to forget about everything and just focus on dreaming. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could dream up a world without Eric. A world where Kenny, Stan and he were still close friends; a world where they were children again and things weren't nearly as complicated as they turned out to be.

Kyle desperately missed those days. If he could go back in time knowing what he knew now, he would do everything in his reach to make sure Eric and Kenny didn't do anything stupid.

Before he knew it, he noticed his eyes were watering. His cheeks felt wet and he lifted up a hand to wipe tears he didn't even realize had started falling. "What is this?" he tried to laugh, but to no avail. He just ended up crying harder. "Why did it turn out like this?" he said, to no one really. "Why couldn't I have done something when I noticed they were doing stupid shit like stealing?" he pulled his legs up and hugged them tightly to his chest. Was he at fault? He didn't do anything wrong, so why did he feel like he did? It wasn't his job to make sure Kenny and Eric were good people.

After only moments more of silent sobbing, he fell asleep, where he could finally be at peace.

.ooo.

Eric had already been there twenty minutes and the redhead hadn't woken up. He didn't think Kyle was a heavy sleeper, but then again, Eric wasn't really making much noise. He was seated in a chair not far from the ex-detective's bed, just twiddling his fingers like an idiot wondering what he was going to do. Kyle hated him, not to say he didn't deserve it, but he wouldn't even give him the time of day. He always thought Kyle was supposed to be the more sympathetic of the four.

He watched the man move slightly and jumped to his feet. Slowly, the daywalker opened his eyes and once again was aware of the world around him. He felt a presence in the room and turned to the dark clothed figure. He nearly jumped right off his hospital bed. "Why are you back?" he hissed, partly from the pain that emerged when he'd flung himself upright.

"Kyle, I have something to say to you!" Eric was nearly fed up.

The shorter man grabbed a pillow and flung it at his enemy. "Get the fuck out! I have nothing to say to you! You should just be glad I'm not calling the police right now!"

"Because there's no phone," Eric mumbled again. He did wonder why Kyle didn't just call for a nurse, though. He could easily call someone like that. He was too smart to not realize this.

Kyle wouldn't admit it, but he kind of did want to know why Eric insisted on visiting him. He couldn't have come back to continue to hurt him. He couldn't risk telling everyone Eric was alive and have them start to search for Clyde and Kenny as well. The other two didn't deserve that. Plus, he wasn't sure if he hated Wendy or Eric more at this point.

"Just give me a-"

"I'm not giving you anything," Kyle stood up quickly, throwing his arms forward to push Eric. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach as he did so, but ignored it. He was far too focused on getting Eric out of his room. He gave him a few weak punches to the chest before he noticed he had no strength. He felt worse than horrible and Eric could tell from the look that appeared on his pale face. It was a cross between "I'm gonna be sick" and "What is happening?"

"Kyle?" Eric asked, concern in his voice.

Kyle winced, forgetting about Eric and looked down at his stomach. His hospital gown had started to turn red. "Shit," he whispered, losing balance and starting to fall over. Eric caught his arms in time and looked around in a panic, unsure of what to do. He quickly laid Kyle on his bed, where he clutched his stomach tightly as muffled sobs and painful cries escaped his lips.

"Nurse!" Eric called out the door as one walked by.

"What is it?" she asked, but before Eric could answer her eyes darted over to the sickly man. She pointed out the door, "Sir, you need to leave now." She picked up her pager to signal help. "Pulled stitches."

"What's going to happen?" he asked, keeping his head low.

"You have to leave, I'm sorry!" she yelled, nearly pushing him out the door as more nurses entered. The rest happened in a flash. They carried Kyle out on a gurney and down the hall, away from Eric.

He rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on. This was his fault, again. Why couldn't he ever do anything right unless it was a crime? Was God trying to tell him something? "You just like to mess with my life, don't you?" he eyed the ceiling.

He didn't know if he could leave without knowing if Kyle was okay. What did that say about him? "God, what the fuck is wrong with me?" he groaned, tugging at his hair from underneath the hood. "Why do I feel so horrible!? This isn't funny. This sucks!"

People turned to look at him, which was the last thing he wanted, so he quietly exited the area and continued down the hall until he was alone. He sat down on a small bench in the lobby and pulled out his phone. He wondered why Kenny and Clyde were up to since they left. It had only been a day or two since Kenny said goodbye to him. Two days was all it took for him to mess things up again and now he didn't have Kenny to pick up the pieces.

Everyone hated him, he was a complete screw up and Kyle was never going to talk to him.

The only bright side was that he'd sold the painting on the black market for 12 million dollars. Of course, he was forced to pay his accomplices as well, but he was still left with a nifty seven million. He was happy with that. Even though it wasn't the ten million he initially wanted, he was only three million short and this money would last him a hell of a long time.

Even though he had all that money to think about, the one thing that wouldn't leave his mind was Kyle. He was on it so much that it angered the brunette. Initially, he thought it was because he just needed to see him again, but now that he had and the feeling hadn't left, he knew it was something deeper.

He couldn't possibly... No, that would be ridiculous! He shook his head. Of course he didn't. There's no way he could! The thought itself was an abomination! Disgusting! He couldn't bear it! There was absolutely no way he was in _love _with Kyle Broflovski.

... Was there?

The more he thought about it, the more unsure he was.


	13. Wendy

**Sorry if they're OOC and it's short! I have a lot of work and tests to study for this week! I promise I'll make it up to you next week!**

* * *

It was dark outside and the sun had long since set. Kyle Broflovski was in his hospital bed, having returned from ripping his stitches for the second time that week and once again, it was all Eric's fault. He just couldn't seem to be able to leave Kyle alone.

But he had calmed down once he reached his room again. He was supposed to have a series of x-rays done, but instead spent that time getting fixed up. He knew that if Eric visited him again and he lost it yet again, things wouldn't turn out well, so he sighed. He took deep breaths trying to clear his mind and force himself to stay calm.

Eric usually had a set time. Every day he visited the pale man after the nurses just finished their evening rounds and he wouldn't leave unless something bad happened or it got too risky.

_"I'm really sorry."_

Those words had actually come out of that cruel man's mouth and although he was an excellent liar, Kyle couldn't shake how pained Eric's voice sounded when he'd said it. Sure, he could fake that, but Kyle had almost always been able to tell when he was lying. It was one of the qualities Stan and Kenny had been jealous of. This particular time, Kyle didn't believe he truly was lying.

But why else was he here for? Wasn't it enough that he could apologize is he was feeling remorse? Why did he keep coming back?! Kyle desperately wanted to know.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach when he thought of the possibilities.

Just when he thought he'd be able to relax, the door creaked open and Kyle threw his head back in frustration. Eric crept inside once again. This was two visits in one day!

"What do you want?" Kyle wanted to fight back, but he was so tired and couldn't handle pulling his stitches even one more time. "Just tell me what you want already. I can't take this anymore," he ran a hand through his hair.

Eric sat down near the door. He crossed his hands almost ready to puke at what he was about to say. "I finally realized why I couldn't leave you as you were- why I felt so... guilty," he said that last part quietly.

"Oh really, and why is that?" Kyle said bitterly.

Eric glared at him. His emotions were conspiring against him. He hated it. "I care."

"What's that?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"I said," he clenched his teeth. "I care."

"About what? Not getting caught? Of course you do, you're a selfish bastard."

Eric stood up quickly, knocking over the chair. "That's not what I mean! I meant, Jesus Christ, Kyle, I mean I care about _you!_ Okay? Are you fucking happy now?"

Kyle's eyes went as big as saucers. "W-what did you just say?"

"You heard me!" he scowled, feeling his cheeks heat up. He crossed his arms again and looked away, "I won't repeat it."

"Repeat it!" Kyle demanded, leaning forward on his hands. Was this actually happening? Did he _want_ this to happen? He really didn't know if it was worse than having Eric hate him.

"No!"

"Repeat it!" Kyle yelled again. He had to hear it again so he could see for himself whether or not Eric was lying. It was a special quality, after all.

Eric let out a groan. "I..." he paused, turning to look Kyle right in his emerald orbs. "I _care_ about you. A lot..." he was seated again. "I didn't mean to shoot you. Butters loaded a gun that was supposed to be empty. If dumbass Stan wasn't there, I would have called the ambulance. I was beside myself... You need to believe me."

"I... I think I do," Kyle's expression was one Eric couldn't read, but if he had to guess, he'd say confusion was the most recognizable. "I can't really explain it... but I don't feel like you're lying." He sat back again, "but I never really do."

"Look, I know I can't just ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it, but give me a chance."

"What? What chance?"

"When I say I care about you, I mean I _care_ about you. I care so much that I hate it. I don't like having these feelings for people because I can't do anything about them. They're out of my control!"

"What the fuck are you saying?" Kyle was horrified. Was Eric professing his... _love?_

"You know exactly what I'm saying! I _like_ you like a guy might _like_ his girlfriend." Eric may have been confessing his feelings like some teenage girl, but he was not going to say _love_.

"All you've ever done is hurt, taunt or make fun of me and now all of the sudden, you're in _like_ with me? Well, I'm sorry, but that's too ridiculous. Maybe I can believe all the other stuff, but this is too much. Go away," he pointed out the door.

"I'm telling the truth, whether you want to believe it or not, Jew."

"You need to leave," he began to get frustrated again. This was too much information for one night. He wished Stan was here to help him sort through it all, but then again, he didn't really want Stan to witness this whole ordeal. It was far too embarrassing. He needed to be alone and think everything over.

"Fine," Eric sighed, nearly slamming the door behind him.

Kyle leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wanted to believe Eric was telling him the truth, but at the same time, he didn't want to have to forgive him. Accepting that he was telling the truth was just that for the redhead.

Having feelings for another boy wasn't what had made him so confused. It was that it was _Cartman._ The boy who made sure he couldn't date Nichole, the boy who while they were younger, blamed him for everything just because he was Jewish; the boy who he'd walked in on honest to God trying to contact Hitler with a Ouija Board. That one took some hardcore explaining.

He just didn't seem the type to ever fall in love, much less with someone he was supposed to hate.

He may have grown into his looks and lost all his fat; he may have been pretty nice looking now, but that meant nothing. Just because he was decent to look at, that didn't mean he was any more a good person.

A harsh knock brought him out of his thoughts. Wendy pushed the door open; her eyes were full of rage. "You jackass," she hissed, walking forward with clenched fists.

"Excuse me?" Kyle frowned.

"You knew all this time, didn't you? You knew and you didn't tell anyone!" she threw her hands forward and grabbed the front of Kyle's hospital gown, violently shaking him back and forth. "You knew, didn't you!?"

"Ouch, Wendy, that hurts!" he yelled, pushing her back and feeling his chest and abdomen to make sure he hadn't pulled the stitches again. "What's the matter with you? Why are you here?"

Her face was dark. "Just because you were fired... Just because you couldn't catch him, you decide to let him go?" she was furious. "I never knew you were such a sore loser."

Kyle's face drained of color. He knew exactly what she was talking about now. "Wait, Wendy, you don't understand!"

"Oh, I understand alright!" she snapped. "I understand that you let a criminal free. How many others have there been before this, huh? Have you ever done any good for the force?"

"Of course I have! Just let me explain."

"Yeah, right," she said. "This one is going straight to the press. I'm going to show the world what you've done, Broflovski. You better prepare yourself."

"Wendy, seriously, you don't get it!" he was beginning to feel rather anxious now.

"Eric Cartman is alive and ex-detective Kyle Broflovski is to thank. Quite a story, wouldn't you say?" she turned on her heels.

"Wait!"

"Goodnight, Kyle," she slammed the door shut. "I hope you rot."


	14. I'm Seriously

**Yo! Sorry for the late day! I have a lot of stuff to do and midterms to study for OTL. Anyone know Quantitative Methods? ; A ;**

* * *

Wendy was on a wild rampage. If she were a cartoon character, her face would be bright red and steam would be blowing out of her ears. She was furious, but it wasn't Kyle's fault. He was only doing what he thought was best. If anyone should be blamed, it should be Eric.

But, then again, that was part of the problem.

He raced down the hallway after her, calling her name and telling her to stop, but she was determined. "Wendy, just wait a minute, you don't know what you're talking about!"

There was no answer.

Kyle ran past a nurse, who immediately stopped him. "Mr. Broflovski, you cannot be out of bed. You don't want to pull your stitches again!"

"But, just let me go outside for a minute."

"I'm sorry, no. Back to your room, now."

And back he went, anxious and confused. Would the force believe her that Eric was alive? What if they did? They would probably assume everyone was alive that way. If only there was a way to know where Kenny and Clyde were. He could at least warn _them._

Jeez, where was Eric when he needed to talk to him the most?

.ooo.

"Stan, I'm gonna go buy some vegetables for dinner, okay?"

"Alright, Lola," he smiled at her. "I'll come with you."

"No, that's okay, I can handle it. But you can get out the big pot and boil some water for me."

"Will do!"

She giggled and waved to him before leaving the condo. Stan turned around to grab the big pot from underneath the counter. He hoisted it onto the stove and filled it halfway with water, then put it on boil. Once he was done, he sat down at the kitchen table and returned to his comic.

"Stan," he heard a whisper and lifted his head. Seeing no one, he returned to reading.

"Hey, pussy," the same voice whispered.

"What the fuck... Did I leave the TV on or something?" he looked over into the living room and saw nothing.

"Over here, dumbass," there was a knock on the open window from behind him. He turned around seeing a tall male dressed in black.

"Holy shit, dude!"

The man hopped inside when he knew Stan could see him. He pulled his hood down to reveal none other than Eric Cartman. Stan's eyes narrowed and he grimaced.

"So you _are_ alive? Figures. What the hell do you want?"

"A chance."

"What?"

"Give me a chance."

"What?"

Eric clenched his teeth. He couldn't tell if Stan was doing that on purpose or not. "I said, give me a fucking chance to explain myself and then I'll be on my way."

"Why do you care what I think? More importantly, I don't care what you have to say. You're a scumbag, so get out of here."

Eric sighed and sat down on one of Stan's couches. "Listen, man, I'm not kidding anymore. I'm tired and confused and I really hate what I'm feeling, but I need your help."

"My help? You want my help?"

"I don't _want_ it, I _need_ it."

"Well, screw that. I'm not helping you."

"I knew you were going to say that and I'm past threatening to hurt your new girlfriend," he spat. "So, I have a proposition. Help me this one time and you will _never_ have to deal with me again."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't, but I'm telling the truth this time. I swear it."

Stan crossed his arms, "Say I was going to help you, which I'm not, what, exactly, do you want help with?"

Eric could feel his face heating up. He was worried, but now was a good time if any to tell. "Kyle," he mumbled quietly.

"What was that?"

"Kyle," he mumbled again.

"Sorry, I can't hear you."

"I said, Kyle, God damn it!"

Stain raised an eyebrow, "Oh, so shooting him wasn't enough? You want to finish him off too? And you're asking my help to do so!? Get the hell out of my house, you sick bastard!"

Eric stood up, "That's not what I'm asking, you little asshole. Just listen to me for a second!"

Stan tapped his foot on the floor after Eric didn't speak for a moment. "I'm waiting!"

"I'm feeling... regretful for what I did. I know Kyle knows it too, because he said he believed me."

"When was that?"

"I dunno, a little while ago when I went to visit him in the hospital."

Stan threw his hands up in the air, "You know what, Cartman? Kyle has too much sympathy for jerks like you. You seriously _hurt_ him, you know that! If I were him, I'd never forgive you. Just remember that."

"Well, you're not him. Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

"With what?! You still haven't told me!"

"I like him, okay? That's what you wanna hear? I like him."

"...You mean...?"

"Yes, that's what I mean," he snapped.

"Isn't this just like that time where you told everyone you were lovers just 'cuz you didn't want him to have Nichole? What, you want him to have a shitty life now, too? Isn't it enough that he lost his job and can't pay his rent anymore?"

"That's why! I want to help him. Stan, I don't ask you for a lot of things, I never have! But this is one thing I'm absolutely serious about. I want to help him because I... care," he almost sounded disgusted to say those words.

"Damn..." Stan's eyes were locked on the floor. He didn't want to look up, for fear of what Eric's face would tell him. "You're not joking, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

Stan ran a hand through his dark hair. "If I do this, you promise you'll never come near me again?"

"If that's what you really want."

"It is."

"Then, yes. I promise."

"Good. Then, just hurry up and tell me what I have to do. Before I change my mind and before Lola comes home."

"Not now. I haven't come up with a plan yet. I'll contact you later."

"When?"

"Before the night is over."

Stan sighed, "Fine, whatever. Just get out of here."

Eric cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head. "...Thanks."

Stan's eyes went wide, "Eh?"

"You heard me," he mumbled, climbing out the window and disappearing from sight.

"Shit," Stan breathed. "He really is serious..."


	15. Death by Gunshot

It was night and Lola had gone back to her home for the night. Stan impatiently waited in the living room for news from Eric. It was nearly midnight and Stan was beginning to feel like this was all part of Eric's plan. Was he really telling the truth? He didn't want to believe it.

"Hey, Stan."

He turned his head quickly, jumping to his feet, "It's about damn time!"

Eric raised his hands up briefly. "Do you want to hear my plan or not?"

"Just tell me, tubbo."

Eric twitched, clearing his throat. "Kyle believes me when I say I'm sorry. I know he does. It's just a matter of making him hate me less so I can take him away. He needs to trust me."

"Wait, take him away? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm fucking rich now, Stan. I can take him wherever he wants to go. He just has to trust me so I can make it happen. He lost his job now, right? He can't pay his rent now, right? Instead of having to look for another job, I can be the one to take care of him."

"You're not taking him away. He's _my_ best friend. If I knew that was what you meant, I'd never have decided to help you out!"

"Don't be such a little asshole. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

"No, I didn't. Forget it. I won't help you take my best friend away from me."

"It's not like you'll lose all contact with him. Just think of it as a permanent vacation. I mean, Jesus, what the hell is Skype for?"

Stan sighed, "If he's with you, then I obviously won't be not seeing you from time to time."

"You'll never have to deal with me. I'll be on the other side of the screen."

Stan knew that he had to put himself aside and think of what would be best for his friend. "Okay. I'll help you, but you have to agree to my conditions."

"What are they?" Eric narrowed his eyes.

"Number one: No more cons. You have to promise that you won't do anything illegal anymore or put him in any danger! Breach of contract and I'll kill you myself."

"Yeah, okay, whatever! I won't need to anyway!"

"Number two: You have to tell me what happened to Kenny and Clyde. I may hate you, but I need to know that those two are okay."

"Ohm my God, I don't know where everyone is. After this heist, we all disbanded. Kenny and Clyde went off somewhere together. I think they were talking about Amsterdam. They're fine, though, alright?"

Stan looked skeptical, but moved on anyway. "Number three: If Kyle doesn't want to go with you after _all_ of this, you need to stop pestering him and cease contact."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Eric grimaced, "_Whatever."_

"Number four: You have to tell me where you're going."

"Okay, no. The others, whatever, but if you know where we are, you might let it slip out and we'll be found again! You really want that to happen? Kyle will get in trouble too."

Stan sighed. Eric was right on this one, he had to admit. "Fine, okay, I guess... But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Just tell me the plan already."

Eric sat down on the windowsill and crossed his arms. "Kyle trusts you more than anyone, so he also trusts your opinion. I need you to visit him and get him talking. Ask him what he thinks about me but don't make it obvious. Once I know how he truly feels, I'll know where to go from there."

"Sounds easy enough..."

"It will be if you do it right. Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

And with that, Eric jumped out the window and disappeared from sight once more. Stan closed it and walked to his bedroom, stripping down to just his boxers. He could very well go visit Kyle tomorrow and sabotage Eric, but that would break their contract as well. Eric would probably come to his house every night and he couldn't handle that. He was trapped, stuck doing what he didn't want to do the most. Kyle was, after all, being let out of the hospital very soon, so Eric had to move fast.

Stan jumped into his bed and grabbed one of the pillows. If Kyle left for good, would he ever see him again? Sure, Skype was an option, but in real life, would he ever see him again? Stan tried to remind himself that it was whatever Kyle wanted that mattered, but he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of never seeing him again-never eating together, never going to baseball games, never having movie nights with their dates... Kyle hadn't been on a date in a long time, though.

He let go of the pillow on rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his crossed arms. "I guess I'll find out what he really wants tomorrow."

.ooo.

"What? What do I think of Cartman?" Kyle snapped. "Why would you ask me that?"

Although he snapped, Stan could hear it. He could hear the lie in his voice. That snap was all for show and that caused Stan more pain than he wanted to admit. He sat down next to his friend and looked him in the eye. His face was serious and it made Kyle frown.

"Stan?"

"You're getting out of the hospital tomorrow."

"Yes?"

"Just tell me the truth. You haven't been acting the same since he's been visiting you."

Kyle looked shocked, "Wait, what?"

"He's been visiting you and he's been visiting me as well. Come on, Kyle, we both secretly knew that that "plane explosion" wasn't the last time we'd hear from him."

"W-what does he talk to you about?"

"You."

Kyle nervously grabbed the blankets on his bed. "What does he say about me?"

"Before I tell you that, let me ask you again, and I expect the truth this time. What do you feel about Cartman? Tell me everything."

Kyle gave Stan a look as if to say 'Do I really need to tell you?' but spoke despite it. "_Truthfully_, I don't know what I'm feeling. I often thought that if Cartman died, I wouldn't care, but then when I thought it really happened, I was scared. Why would I be scared?" he let out a nervous laugh. "I thought: oh no, now I won't be able to tell him what an idiot I thought he was-how everything he did was stupid and how he could have made so much more of himself. I realize now that it wasn't his fault. He definitely could have made so much more of himself, but he wouldn't be happy being some CEO or anything like that. He would be as unhappy as I was in my old job. So, I thought, why not let him have his fun? He probably doesn't hurt people on purpose. Maybe he likes the thrill.

"I was making excuses for him and I didn't know why. Now, I think I do. Although I'm scared to admit it, I do still care about him and I don't want him to die. To be able to forgive him for shooting me proves that. I am a horrible excuse for a human, but to be able to believe that someone cares about me that much that they were willing to risk being found out and taken to jail... It made me happy. Is that bad? I shouldn't feel happy about that, especially since it's Cartman."

There it was. The truth. Stan looked down. He knew how this was going to end. "Kyle, you deserve to feel happy after all you've gone through. I think if knowing that Cartman has feelings for you makes you that happy, then you must have feelings for him too, somewhere in there," he poked Kyle's chest and tried to put on a smile. "I think you should trust those feelings."

"But he's a criminal and I'm an ex-detective."

"Well, let me tell you what he's been talking to me about now. Maybe this will help clear your mind." He ruffled Kyle's hair, "Listen close.

Cartman came to me last night and finally told me what he wanted me to do for him. All this crazy stuff he was talking about... I didn't know what to do with half of it, but the way he spoke made me realize how serious he was. He told me how he cared for you and wanted to take you away from everything. Like, some romantic permanent vacation," he let out a small laugh. "It was so weird to think about, but I knew deep down that if there was someone out there who cared about you that much, no matter the gender or type of person, then I'd give it a shot. Kyle, he really does like you, maybe it's love, but it's your decision. Whatever you feel is right, you should listen to that. Don't do something just because you _think_ he's the only one that's ever cared about you."

Kyle's face was unreadable for a few moments until Stan saw a tear fall down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away and laughed slightly, "You always know what to say, huh?"

Stan smiled, "It's one of my better qualities."

"I don't know what to do."

"Think about it, okay? I'm here for you no matter what you decide, just remember that."

"I will."

"Oh, Stan, you were never there for me like that, were you? Did you ever think that maybe that's why I cheated on you?"

Both boys turned to the door to see Wendy leaning against the archway holding his gun.

"Wendy?" Stan furrowed his brows. "What the hell are you doing here? You're not welcome."

"I just came to deliver a message."

"Wendy, you didn't tell them, did you?" Kyle sounded worried.

"I did," he replied angrily. "Oh, you bet I did. Do you want to know what happened, _Kyle?_ They called me crazy. Told me I was just angry that I wasn't the one to capture or kill him. You know, that kind of made me snap. Just a bit! So, as I was walking to this hospital to yell at you, you can't imagine who I came across."

Kyle was beginning to get a sick feeling in his stomach.

"What are you talking about, Wendy?" Stan stood up, clenching his fists.

"Well, he was just standing out here, waiting for God knows what. It was just like fate. Wonderful thing, fate is."

"Wendy, what did you do?" Stan yelled.

"Why don't you see for yourself," she raised her left hand, which happened to be covered in blood. "This isn't mine."

Kyle held his head. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he was scared beyond belief. Did she kill someone? Because of him?

Stan grabbed her arm, "Who the fuck did you do this to?"

She pulled her arm away and laughed, "I told you, go see for yourself. I followed him into the forest. He's probably still there. Which forest is closest to the hospital?" she shrugged, stepping out and turning on her feet. "Now you'll have to tell the world he's alive if you want him to live."

Kyle's eyes were wide. He pulled the blankets off himself and ran out the door without another word. Stan wasn't far behind him. "Kyle, wait!"

A nurse stepped out in order to stop him, but Kyle was running so fast he practically ran her over. It only took him mere seconds to reach the front exit. He had to get to the forest. If Wendy was telling the truth, then what would happen to him? What would happen to Eric? He didn't want to find out. Not like this.

Stan wanted to kill Wendy for all she was putting Kyle through. If she had actually shot Eric, then if he survived, she wouldn't get off easy either. Did she realize that? Maybe she was so driven by anger that she didn't care. What if she said it was self-defense? Would they believe her?

Right then, Stan didn't know who the worst person was. It was like this one case brought out the nastiness in everyone, even himself. As he chased after the redhead in front of him, he realized that he had actually been willing to give up his friend's happiness to please himself. He was horrible. Not anymore, though, because Wendy's revelation brought out something else in him. He realized that because Kyle didn't want Eric to die, he didn't either. If Eric did die, the memories they had when they were younger would die with him as well. Stan was sure he knew that.

They had good memories. Sure, they weren't all rainbows and unicorns. They fought, a lot, and they yelled at each other, but the next day everything was fine again and they would be off on yet another crazy adventure. They always had fun and maybe that's why Eric chose the path he did. He wanted the closest thing to what they had when they were children. He wanted to feel that happy again-like he had not a care in the world.

For once, Stan understood. He finally understood and now that he did, he couldn't watch Eric die in front of him.

He ran faster, catching up with Kyle. "He won't die!"

"How do you know that?" Kyle yelled. "Wendy's a psycho bitch!"

"I know she is, but we have to believe she told us so that we could save him."

They reached the forest and, as big as it was, decided to spread out as best they could while still being in sight of each other. "Cartman!" Kyle called. "Are you in here?"

"Cartman!" Stan yelled, "Answer us!"

"Cartman!"

"CARTMAN!"

A faint cough brought Stan's attention to a nearby bush. "Cartman?" he ran toward it and peered behind. There Eric lay, eyes closed with a hand over his bloody chest. "Kyle, over here!"

Kyle ran over, pushing branches out of his way until he was right next to Stan. "Oh, God, she shot him... What do we do?"

"Kyle, calm down. You know what to do. You've been in situations like this before, remember?"

"Right," Kyle nodded. "Okay. Stan, call the hospital. You have your phone right? I don't want to move him in case!"

"I'm on it." He pulled off his sweater, "Use this to help stop the bleeding."

Kyle pressed the sweater onto Eric's chest. "Hey, Cartman?"

Another cough and a weak groan.

"Stan, go meet them so they know where to go," Kyle said.

Stan nodded and ran to the entrance of the forest to wait for the ambulance.

"Cartman, stay with me now."

He opened an eye slightly, "...Hey, Jew."

"Wendy did this?"

"Mm... I saw her... 'nd," he coughed, "I was... gonna wait here 'ntil... she left, but she... followed without my... knowledge..."

Kyle nodded, "I know, she told us. You realize that... the ambulance is going to find out you're alive, right?"

"Tch... Yeah."

"W-what are you going to do?"

The sound of the ambulance was near and Kyle could hear people running toward them. Eric smirked.

"I guess we'll... find out, huh?"


	16. A Brief Pause

**You guess, seriously, you don't have to tell me how bad this chapter is. I'm seriously. I know this is some quality bad writing but I legit have zero time to write now and ughhhh I have no motivation. XC I promise I'll stop being a buttpipe and actually work hard on the next one. It is going to be intense after all! :U ... Or I hope so.**

* * *

Kyle waited anxiously outside the hospital. A day had passed since Wendy shot Eric and he had been transported straight to the hospital and into surgery. Somehow, he'd managed to survive and was being held in a guarded room. There was no escape for him and Kyle was sure he knew that.

"Dude, we should be out celebrating your recovery. You cannot worry about Cartman every second of the day. You've been released. You deserve to relax. Cartman is fine, alright? I mean, I do understand how him having to go to jail can worry you, especially after all that's happened. I'm upset about it too."

Kyle gave him a look as if to say he had no idea how he felt, but Stan replied with, "I am. While we were running to him after Wendy revealed what she'd done, I finally realized why he did all those things-why he was always so... criminal. I thought about it for a long time after I went home and I understand him. He was only doing what he felt would bring him closer to how things were when we were younger. His criminal acts were really... childishly innocent."

Kyle sighed, "You've thought about it too? ...I just... I always thought I hated him. It really doesn't make sense to me. I need..." he gave Stan a blank look. "I need to get drunk."

"What?" Stan replied, quite surprised at the words coming out of the redhead's mouth. Kyle was always the responsible one, the designated driver. The thought that he was even suggesting this only proved how much he needed it. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, Stan, please." He sounded scared and tired and so many other things that Stan could not think of, so he did the only thing he could do: Accept.

"Let's do it."

.ooo.

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours before the drunken duo managed to return to Stan's condo. They were laughing about something stupid and the neighbours got mad at them, telling them it was too late to be this loud. They only laughed more until they made it inside.

Stan fell over onto the couch and Kyle was slumped up against the door. "...Nd that other time, when we went to Aspen... D-Darsh!" Kyle giggled and nearly fell over onto the floor.

"Hey man," Stan hiccupped, "That wasn' cool... He had Heather!"

"You didn't even know Heather," Kyle replied, snorting.

This carried on for nearly another hour until both boys fell asleep where they were.

Normally, Kyle was strongly opposed to drinking so much and waking hung-over, but he was in desperate need of a good time and if that meant using alcohol to be happy for even a little bit, he would gladly choose that.

Through the soft snoring from Stan and thoughts that Kenny and Clyde had made it out alright, good dreams were brought to Kyle's mind. Eric was going to be okay, even if he was going to jail. Even if that wasn't quite what Kyle wanted, at least he was still alive.

He dreamed for a long time and every dream seemed better than the last. He dreamed of playing piano with Ike, winning the _Mathletes_ with an unlikely partner, catching a bunch of bad guys on Halloween, winning buckets of candy... Every moment he cherished seemed to pop into his head like he'd only just lived it yesterday. Such precious moments... he wouldn't want to forget.

The moment he awoke from his deep slumber, he saw light. A bright light followed by an immense pain in his head. He got up with a groan, wincing and shading his eyes. He looked around, not remembering much of last night, but he was nearly sure he didn't fall asleep on the couch.

"Sorry," came a chuckle as the blinds were shut tightly and the room turned dim.

"Stan?" Kyle opened his eyes slightly. Stan must have moved him while he was sleeping.

"Medicine?" was the one word reply.

Kyle only nodded, making his way to the kitchen table while Stan rummaged through the cabinet. "I made some pancakes if you want them," he said, handing Kyle the bottle of medicine. "It's better if you take them on a full stomach."

"It'll be fine. I'm not hungry. Can I have some water?"

"Kyle..."

"I'm not hungry," he repeated. "Water, please?"

"Yeah... alright," Stan turned around and filled up a glass.

Kyle stared out the window for a while, trying to turn his thoughts of glum away. Eric being shot, Eric being in jail... Why was it that Eric was all he could think about?

"Don't turn into Tweek."

"What are you talking about?" Kyle shot Stan a confused look.

"Remember during high school? Tweek was that one kid who never ate anything. People thought it was just because he ate at home, but then they found out there was something really wrong with him. Don't you remember? He went to a hospital where they tested on him and injected him with needles... Craig's team even tried to go on a rescue mission that one time, but failed, of course... The point is, I don't want you to end up like that either. I know we've been through a shit ton this week, but you gotta keep positive. I'll help you out."

"You wouldn't..."

"What do you mean? Of course I'll help you out. Anything you need."

"No, you won't. Not with this..."

"Spit it out, fool," Stan put his hands on his hips. "Whatever you need help with won't be nearly as bad as all the other shenanigans we've gotten ourselves into."

"...Well... I've thought about this since yesterday. It won't leave my mind. Cartman being in jail isn't something I can really... handle. He needs to get out."

"Why would you say that? Isn't it safer for everyone if he's in there?"

"No, I think it's worse. You know Cartman. Being cooped up in one place for so long isn't something he can handle. He might just do something crazy. You know that, right?"

"I guess so... but what exactly are you planning?"

Kyle crossed his arms and stood up straight, "I just have a feeling that this is what I need to do..."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"I need to break him out."


	17. The Planning Stage

Stan thought Kyle was crazy for saying such a thing. Eric was safe behind bars. They were safe with him behind bars. So, why? No, Stan knew why. After all the thoughts he'd been thinking it wasn't right for him to question Kyle. They both still cared for their troublesome friend, no matter how much Stan tried to deny it to himself, he did care.

Kyle cared more, though and since Eric's confession, he was beginning to realize that more and more each hour passing.

It had been five days since Eric had moved from the hospital to the South Park Prison. Kyle had stopped by once or twice, but never for a visit. Or rather, he had gone to visit, but never to speak. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't his fault Eric was here; it was Wendy's. Speaking of her, Wendy had gone quite crazy after the mess with Eric Cartman. She'd gone around telling everyone at the station that she'd finally taken down the almighty Eric and every time they'd ask how, she would cackle like a witch and say it was a secret.

Kyle had no doubt that she was going to be safe from charges. After all, she was a detective and Eric was a criminal. It didn't help that Kyle and Stan had testified that she shot him because they weren't there. They couldn't tell what had _actually_ happened even though they did know. Eric was the only set of eyes that could say anything against it, but he never did. He stayed silent the entire time and therefore was led to jail without another word.

Kyle wanted to punch him for not saying anything. Why would he stay quiet? Perhaps he knew he had no chance. But that wasn't the Eric that he and Stan knew.

"Are you finally ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Stan and Kyle were on the other side of the glass that held the prisoners and their phones. They were waiting anxiously for the cop to lead Eric over to them so they could talk and sort the things out that desperately needed sorting.

Once Eric was seated, the cop left to wait against the wall. Kyle looked to Stan, who shrugged slightly. "Pick up the phone..."

"You pick up the phone!"

Stan sighed, "Fine," and reached out to grab it. He pulled it to his ear and said, "Cartman, Kyle wants to talk to you."

Kyle glared at him, "Asshole." He took the phone, though, and pressed it to his ear. He opened his mouth to talk, but only a small cough came out.

"You okay?" he heard Eric say.

Kyle frowned and nodded, "You?"

"Been better. Obviously."

"Why didn't you say anything about what Wendy did to you?"

"No point. She's a fucking cop. It's her word against mine and I seem to be rather famous around here. Whatever. I knew I'd end up in here someday."

"You don't sound like yourself. Is it bad in there?"

"What do _you _think, Jew?" he smirked.

Kyle smiled softly. He never thought he'd miss those insults as much as he did. "You know... they're never going to let you out. You've a life sentence unless you manage to get parole on good behavior. But you know... that's..."

"Yeah, I know. It's funny how the system sucks until they put me in."

"Maybe they're trying to set an example."

"Maybe." He paused for a moment, "Why are you and pussy-boy here?"

"Because I've realized that having you in here isn't good for anyone. Maybe if they realize that, too, you'll be sent to a high security prison with no chance of escape!"

"Escape? What the hell are you saying?"

"Ssh," Kyle pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't say it loudly."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"You need to get out," Kyle whispered. "I need to get you out."

"Why? You suddenly care?"

"Not suddenly. I have for a while now... I couldn't tell clearly what I was feeling because I didn't know. I've never felt that way before. At first, because it made me feel sick, I thought it was how much I hated you. Eventually I realized how untrue that was and that all those things you were doing were just for the memories of our younger days. You know, I never thought I would ever be saying this to you, but I respect that. I miss them too, the days of our youth. I thought I'd do anything to get them back, but we can't go back in time. We can't. What you were doing was almost like reliving our own adventures, though. I didn't realize it."

"You should have. I've been trying to get you to notice it for so long. Robbing the bank we played cops and robbers at when we were kids, the fight with that man at Stark's Pond, making Wendy out to look like a fool like I did so many times when we were young. You know, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he let out a chuckle. "You could have thought of it as a riddle."

"Well, I've solved it."

"I's about damn time."

Stan nudged Kyle and nodded, pointing to the time. "Soon."

Kyle glanced up at the clock above and sighed, "I have to meet Ike for something. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be back. Don't be surprised if you see me, though. I'm doing this for you, so you better be thankful."

"What?" Eric asked confusedly.

Stan chuckled softly, "I guess we're switching roles this time."

"What are you saying?" Eric asked again, annoyed.

Kyle turned to face him with a serious look, "After this, you must promise me something."

"Well, that depends on what it is..."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "We won't be able to be here anymore. It'll be too dangerous. You must promise me that you'll take me away."

Eric's eyes widened, "What?" He'd said it many times before, but none were more fitting than this. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can't take this anymore," Stan grabbed the phone and whispered into it, "We're breaking you out, fool."

"Eh? Are you serious? For real? How?!"

"That's for us to know and you to find out," Stan hung up the phone and started dragging Kyle out the door. "Jesus Christ. That took longer than expected. Ike's waiting, you know."

"I still can't believe he's doing this," Kyle said, running to Stan's speed.

"I'm more shocked than you. He always did say if Cartman hurt you, he'd kill him. Funny how he'll do anything for his big bro."

"He knows I need this... He's a good brother."

"Damn straight. You better make sure to tell him before you leave."

"You're not going?" Kyle stopped. "I thought you said you were coming. That's part of why I'm doing this!" Kyle nearly yelled. His voice was worried.

"I can't leave Lola, man. She's the first good thing that's happened to me. We'll still talk every day, though. I promise you that, Kyle. You can't get rid of me that easily no matter how hard you might try."

"I'd never try to get rid of you," Kyle huffed. "How can we talk?"

"You know, through Skype and things like that. I wanna know all about your adventures and the things you'll do wherever you decide to go. And if you happen to see Kenny or Clyde along the way, tell them I said hi, okay?" he smiled.

Kyle frowned and looked down, "But..."

Stan put a hand on his head, "Kyle, you do need this. You don't have a job here, your apartments gone, you never sleep or eat, you're pale and get sick too easily. You need a place to relax. A place where you won't have to worry about these things, you know? Somewhere with a view of the ocean would be nice. Take a picture of it for me."

Kyle leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Stan. "You're the best super best friend."

"I know," Stan joked, hugging Kyle back. "We'll do this and you'll get away. you'll both be free, alright?"

Kyle smiled, "Yeah, alright."


	18. Let's Finish This

**Sorry for the long wait! Exams! Eek!**

* * *

It was night and Eric Cartman was sitting, wide awake in his small cell. He knew tonight was the night that Kyle and Stan were supposedly going to break him out of jail. He wasn't quite sure when this event was said to go down, but he was sure it was tonight.

He looked around and stood up. "God damn it, where the hell are they?" he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't stop thinking about what Kyle said to him, about promising to take him away. Were things actually going to go as he wanted them to? Was Kyle actually okay with it? He knew the redhead was tired and upset, but he never thought he'd agree to something like this, being an ex-detective and all.

"Cartman," he heard a voice from behind him and turned to the back wall where a small, barred window to the outside was located. He saw Ike crouching down with an angry expression. His jet black hair was disheveled and he looked like he dressed himself in the very first thing he saw. He was wearing sunglasses, but when he spoke, he pulled them off, revealing bloodshot eyes. "Hey, fatass. I'm absolutely not forgiving you or anything, but I'm doing this for my brother. You better fucking be happy about this and once I'm done I don't want to see you ever again. Even if my brother forgives you, I don't." He pushed himself off the ground and Eric knew it was beginning.

He felt a little guilty for breaking the one promise he made to Ike, but it was all worth it in the end because it gave him the opportunity to get Kyle on his side.

"It's coming, shitface," Ike whispered into the window. Eric could feel his eye twitch, but shook his head despite. He'd have to take it but it would only be for a short while. "Get prepared." And with that, he ran off to God knows where.

.ooo.

"You know, I'm a bit anxious," Kyle whispered to Stan in the darkness. Only the moon could see what they were planning now.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't too. It's weird, you know, us doing this. I never would have imagined we'd be in such a situation. Especially with Cartman."

"Well, maybe it was fate after all."

"Maybe... Oh, hey, I see Ike."

Ike ran up to him and let out a sigh, "Okay, he knows it's going down now. I still don't see what you see in the dirtbag," he said to Kyle. "But whatever, it's your life. Just promise me one thing, Kyle. You have to keep contact somehow. I don't want to be missing you."

"Don't worry, Ike, I promise," Kyle ruffled his little brother's hair and smiled. "Let's do this."

"Everybody ready?" Ike asked and with a nod from everyone, he spoke again. "Barbrady's inside along with six other cops and obviously the whole place is rigged with cameras. I bet I can block them out, but only for about five minutes, which means that's all you have to get in and out with Cartman. Got it?"

"Got it," Stan answered for the both of them.

"Do you know how you're going to deal with the rest of the cops?" Kyle said. "There's seven in total, right? I mean, Barbrady's old now, so he shouldn't be that big a problem, but the other six we're going to have to make sleep, right? I brought the tranquilizer, but my hands are shaking so much I don't think I can fire it well..."

"I'll take care of it," Stan said. "Tell us when you're ready, Ike."

Ike pulled his laptop out of his bag and turned it on. He started typing god knows what and his slender fingers flew across the keyboard. The only sound they could hear was the smacking of keys against his fingers. "Hold one moment," he bit his lip, pulling out a number of chords and plugging them into his computer. He moved a few inches toward the department wall and opened the power box, plugging his series of chords into the system. "Gimme a sec," he said again.

Kyle and Stan waited anxiously as Ike continued to type on his computer. "Five minutes starting now!" Ike hissed, motioning for them to get moving.

The duo quickly shot up and pulled their black masks over their heads. Kyle passed Stan the tranquilizer and pushed open the door. Barbrady was at the front desk, softly snoring, so they quietly passed by him and down the hallway to the rest of the cops.

"Number one," Kyle whispered.

Stan readied the gun and fired a shot, knocking cop number one out without a hitch. "Let's hurry," he darted down the hallway and toward Eric's cell. "We only have five minutes."

Kyle pushed open the door and peered inside. "Clear."

"Jesus, I really don't know why I was expecting so much. This is South Park, after all," Stan grumbled, holding the gun at his side. "Where's Cartman?"

"Last cell on the left."

"Long hall."

"Damn, yeah," Kyle inched down, looking around every corner. Suddenly, another cop came out of nowhere causing Kyle to jump back in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" the cop yelled, pulling out his gun. Stan shot him, but not before he fired one of his bullets.

"Fuck!" Kyle hissed, losing balance and tumbling to the ground.

"Kyle!" Stan ran toward him, "Where did you get hit?!"

"Just grazed my shoulder," he muttered. "It's no big deal. I'm fine."

"No it isn't. Shut up," Stan dropped the gun and bent down next to his friend. He ripped off part of his shirt and wrapped it around Kyle's shoulder. "This should hold until we get you some better help," he tied it tight.

"Thanks, Stan." He stood back up and flashed a small smile. Stan grabbed the gun again as well as Kyle's hand.

"Let's finish this thing once and for all."

Kyle nodded, "Yes."


	19. The True End

**JAJAAA. The long awaited... final chapter! Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. 3**

* * *

The next three minutes happened in a blur. It was almost as if time had sped up just for them and not the outside world. Just so they could find Eric and still have time to run. So they could grab Ike and disconnect his computer from the system. So they could get as far away from the South Park Jail as possible. So they could be free.

It happened too quickly, Stan thought, for the last adventure he was to have with his best friend, but as he glanced around at his team of misfits, he realized it would be okay. Kyle was smiling and Eric's arms were reaching up to the sky. Ike's bitter grimace was no longer in sight, but neither was a smile. He just looked content. Content that his brother was going to be okay and happy. Stan reached forward and ruffled Ike's hair, mouthing a thank you. Ike shrugged as if to say he only did it for Kyle, but he let a small smile creep out nonetheless.

The four of them were just outside town, in the infamous forest where the heist began. "So, this is what it feels like to be a free man," Eric joked. "Damn... it feels good."

"Where will you go from here?" Stan asked.

"Sorry, I can't spill that secret. Maybe once we're there, we'll drop you a line. That is, if we're still on speaking terms," Eric raised an eyebrow, remembering their previous conversation.

"Man, forget what I said, alright? I said all that shit before I realized a lot of stuff. Anyway, the point is, you're okay, Cartman and as long as you have Kyle, I'll always be talking to you."

Eric smirked and Kyle took his turn to speak. "When you stole that painting and sold it, where did you put your money?" he asked.

"Don't worry. It's with a reliable source. As soon as you're ready, we can head off."

Kyle took a moment to think. Was this what he really wanted? To live the life of a criminal? He shook his head. Anything was better than the life he was living now. Plus, if he was with Eric, he felt like it might just work out. Even if they got into trouble; were stuck in a jam, if he was with Eric... they might just get through. "Okay," Kyle clenched his fists. "This is what I want." He looked to Stan and Ike. "I won't lose touch with you. I swear it."

"I know you won't," Stan smiled softly. "So, I guess this is it, then, huh? Our final farewells..."

Ike eyes began watering and he quickly wiped away tears threatening to fall. "Kyle, you gotta let me visit you when I'm eighteen. I won't tell anyone where you are, but I'll miss you. You're the best brother in the world. I don't want to lose you forever."

Kyle wrapped his arms around his younger brother, "You won't. I promise you won't. We will make this work. I'll miss you too, Ike, but it won't be forever. We'll see each other again, someday soon. I swear it."

"Let me get in on this hug," Stan chuckled, but his laughter was sad. He wrapped his arms around Kyle tightly and shut his eyes.

"Always were a pussy," Eric mumbled to himself although he didn't mean it. Even though he wasn't partaking, this was a farewell for him as well.

When the other three had finally said everything they wanted to, nearly twenty minutes had gone by. Kyle gave both Ike and Stan's hands a squeeze before he turned around and ran off with Eric and that was it. That was the last Stan and Ike saw of their best friend and older brother. The last for a while, anyway.

That's how the story is told. How Eric Cartman turned his life upside down and how he took Kyle Broflovski there with him. How Stan learned to live and let go and how Ike learned to forgive and move on.

At least, that's how Eric told me it went down. I don't know if I really believe him, seeing as he is Eric Cartman, but since that day, I've realized something: Eric Cartman always gets what he wants.

It's been six years since then and everyone has gone off to do their own thing. Everyone learned from this experience. They learned to live, to love, to forgive, to forget and most importantly, we realized our dreams. I'd hate to say it, but if it weren't for Eric Cartman, none of us, I sincerely doubt, would be where we are today. None of us would be living so happily like this. So, although it's strange for me to say this, I thank him. From the bottom of my immortal heart, I thank Eric Cartman.

Some of us still stay in touch. Some of us don't, although the ones that don't have a pretty good idea of how everyone's been doing from the ones that do. It's ridiculous to say the least, that I only found out about Kevin and Red's wedding two years after it happened. As it turns out, Kevin managed to get his original graphic novel published and is now working in the gaming industry. He's made a pretty good name for himself out here.

Butters is working full time for "The Force." I chuckle as I say this because the South Park police force went downhill the moment the chief fired Kyle. It was a huge mistake. Wendy went crazy after she realized Eric was freed and is spending quality time in a cushiony room. Not that she didn't deserve it, of course. Naturally, I do feel for her, but her mind was an unstable one anyway. It only needed a small push to get where she is now and at least she still has one tall, dark and handsome visitor.

If you were worried about Tweek and Craig, don't be. Now that they've found each other again, they don't leave each other's sides. Currently, they own a small apartment in New York where Craig works as a mechanic and Tweek as a waiter at a local cafe. I don't think their jobs matter as much to them as seeing each other, though, and they get to do a lot of that now. They've moved past this whole incident, and even though they don't have to work, they're doing what they love, too.

Ike's become quite the hacker. He managed to find me, so that's saying a lot. Of course, he only found me to say hi. I was more than thrilled to find out everything went well from a more reliable source. As it seems, Ike visits Kyle quite often and although his parents constantly beg him to tell them where Kyle is, he never spills the beans. He's become quite strong if I do say so myself.

Stan hasn't lost touch, either. Once Ike found me, he reported to the others (stealthily, I can add). Stan is living happily with his wife, Lola and their child in California. Over the years we've all been keeping contact through less suspicious things like Skyping on Saturdays at exactly 1PM and if one of us can't make it, we'll reschedule. It hasn't been easy working around the time zones, but if it's for each other, then we're happy to make it work. I've also learned through reliable source that Stan goes to visit Kyle and Eric once a year. Seeing where they live now, it's basically a vacation. Sometimes we all plan trips at the same time, just to remember the day it all went down. The day everything changed. We remember it for the good times and not the bad.

Now, cool your jets. I'm getting to Kyle and Eric. I know you're itching to know where those two ended up. Well, with all Eric's money, they could have gone anywhere, just like most of us, but they didn't want to go just anywhere. They went toward their dreams. A place to relax; a place where they could close their eyes and not cry themselves to sleep. A permanent vacation.

Somewhere like... Jamaica. Eric always rubs it in my face whenever we Skype now. Kyle and I will be having a perfectly decent conversation and Eric will pop up asking me how jealous I am of him. I've stopped telling him that I could have gone to Jamaica too and instead have started telling him that life in Amsterdam with Clyde is more than fun. It's perfectly me.

Then I usually disconnect because Eric insists on making out with Kyle before we've said our goodbyes. It's not the best way to sign off, but I can see they're happy.

"Kenny, you comin'?" I can hear Clyde yelling from the bottom floor of the house we share.

"Yeah, just hang on a sec. I'm just finishing up!" I yell back.

And, if there couldn't be a happier ending, as it turns out, we're heading to the airport right now. The calendar shows me that it is in fact time for one of the gang's rare meet-ups at Kyle and Eric's house. I suppose this is the true final farewell, but even though I'm telling you the ending, that doesn't mean our story is over. No, we still have a hell of a lot of living to do.

After all, we're still just young kids at heart.


End file.
